


Hymm and Her

by cistus



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: (but it DOES get better), (in a sense), Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Arguing, Childbirth, Childhood Trauma, Concussions, Discussion of Abortion, Disordered Eating, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Gender Dysphoria, Gender Issues, Heavy Angst, Hybrid Clay | Dream (Video Blogging RPF), Implied Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Suicide, It Gets Worse Before It Gets Better, Kidnapping, LGBTQ Themes, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Medical Conditions, Mental Health Issues, Mpreg, Near Death Experiences, Nightmares, No beta we die like my dignity, Other, Overuse of Metaphors, Panic Attacks, Realistic Minecraft Mechanics, Self-Hatred, Suicidal Thoughts, Swearing, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Unrequited Love, Vomiting, all i ever do is make characters suffer, and boy does he make dream talk about them, anyway george is oblivious and confused all the time like please sir get with the program, boy do i love swords, does any of this actually make any sense? that will be determined, gratuitous use of the word fuck, i am a simple man after all, i hope you liked the swordfighting facts because now there's a bunch of medical facts too, i never specified this but these are the rp characters, sapnap is the friend that makes you talk about your feelings, trans character written by a trans author, watch how many unnecessary sword fighting facts i can add to this fic, yeah i can sword fight. how many other fic authors can do that huh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-09
Updated: 2021-02-03
Packaged: 2021-03-13 01:48:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 27
Words: 52,439
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28645491
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cistus/pseuds/cistus
Summary: The laughter bubbled up in his throat, not in a pleasant way but in the way mud does. Instead of being sick, he swallowed back a hiccup, and spoke."I have a secret," he whispered, hating the seductive curl of his voice and the saccharine heaviness of it, but not resisting it as it slid out, "would you like to see?""I'd love to."Oh, it wasn't what he deserved.When he takes the mask off, after so many years of hiding, all Dream can do is fall apart.
Relationships: Clay | Dream & Eret (Video Blogging RPF), Clay | Dream & GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF), Clay | Dream & Sapnap (Video Blogging RPF), Clay | Dream/GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF)
Comments: 215
Kudos: 488





	1. act I, scene I

The day started as usual; Dream downed pills that smelled like markers and tasted like the rubber soles of his boots, and shoved on his familiar green hoodie with a sigh. His body ached as it always did in the morning, before the medication kicked in and pushed back the inevitable, time and time again. What a lovely thing to think about every morning, the crushing fear of forgetting one morning, of running out.

It wasn't fun to ponder one's existence when the sun had barely graced the horizon, and Dream finished suiting up, groaning at the weight of his netherite armor on his shoulders. It felt heavier that morning, heavier than the day before, as if bearing the weight of every accursed sin and bloodstain. It was easy to rinse the metal off, but harder to forget the memories that went along.

He was taking too long to get ready. He wasn't a damned philosopher, just a dude with an ego that had been stroked too much. He had to talk to Eret, maybe go fuck around with Tommy a bit, the usual. The emotional part of him could stay inside until evening, and then he could sit and cry or jerk off, whatever people did when they were sad. He didn't do either of those things very often, but he wasn't in a good mood, and the option was on the table.

Well, something could certainly raise his spirits today and save him from the now-inevitable pity fest that he'd be enjoying later. At the moment, walking through dew-soaked grass and squinting in the already too-bright sun wasn't going to cut it. He wished he hadn't put a ban on going to the End, he could really use some elytra; flying was preferable to getting his socks wet.

At least his shoddy cabin was near Eret's castle, so his socks didn't have time to get too wet. He was damn sick of being homeless, and with a few hours of work, he had a roof over his head and a better place to hide his heat suppressants, should he ever accidentally drop them during a fight. He couldn't have anybody finding out that their _beloved_ leader was a weak, sex-craving omega, now could he? Sure, the stereotypes weren't true, but enough people thought they were, enough for his reputation to get trashed. It would be much better to put somebody like Wilbur in charge, whose alpha scent was so obnoxious you could smell the gasoline stink of it a mile away. Well, you _had_ been able to, but ghosts didn't smell like anything.

Dream's head hurt, he just wanted to break out of his own skull sometimes. Maybe if he took a pickaxe to it, the fucked up part of it would leak out, along with the rest of him. It'd be a lie to say he didn't want to die sometimes. Wandering around as an amnesiac ghost seemed much better than whatever _this_ miserable existence was, anyway.

No more time to think about that, though, he was at the entrance to the castle now. The rainbow flags and banners fluttered in the breeze, the gentle humming of the beacons a gentle harmony to the chirping of nearby birds. It was a nice place, really. Eret was a lucky guy.

They were seated on their throne, looking pretty bored and disinterested for a king. Most of their job consisted of sitting around; on second thought, maybe they weren't the luckiest person out there. They perked up when they noticed Dream walking up, trying to look like they hadn't been falling asleep on the job. It wasn't like he cared, anyway, not anymore. He'd gone through enough wars and bullshit to stop caring about the little things, like that or sunrises.

"What brings you here, Dream?" they asked, quickly moving to adjust their sunglasses to a less precarious position on their nose. Everybody knew they hid pure-white eyes underneath, but they kept them on all the time anyway.

"Just for the usual business, no worries," he said with a dry chuckle, "I'm too tired to do anything else. Any issues I should be aware of?"

"No, I haven't heard of anything out of the ordinary. Tommy's stayed in exile, it's business as usual in L'Manberg..."

"And netherite stores?"

"I have thirteen ingots saved, and the same few armor sets as last time you asked. I'm stocked up, and so are the rest of the people who want to be. And... And I know you're probably going to go now, but... what's up?"

"... What's up? As in, how am I doing? I'm doing alright."

"And there's the issue." Eret leaned back, friendly smile slipping off their features and becoming something much more jagged. Dream immediately prickled, knowing what was coming. He had no way to stop it, but damnit, he didn't want to own up.

"If I'm lying, you shouldn't question it, Eret. If you value your position as king, you should leave me to deal with my own business."

"I'm not asking this to you as king, I'm asking you as a friend. I don't know about everybody else, but _I_ know something's wrong, and while a lot of other people on this server might not like you much, I care enough to ask. So instead of putting up those walls, maybe you should _try_ to listen. I'm going to ask you again: what's up?"

"... There's a reason I put you in this position, isn't there... Well, if you so badly want to know, I am not doing my best. I'm rather tired, and I can't stop getting stuck in my own head. It's not like I'm going to keel over and die, though, so I don't think this warrants much worry."

"I'm perceptive enough to tell there's another lie in there, but I'm also smart enough to know that pushing you anymore would be a bad idea."

"Good plan. I'll be taking my leave now, and I'd appreciate it if you didn't ask me any more questions of that vein ever again."

If Dream was ever friends with Eret, he didn't see himself keeping that relationship for much longer, but he didn't give much of a fuck, in all honesty. What were friends if you couldn't trust them?

* * *

Evening came, and Dream was in a shitty mood but he was also so tired that he didn't want to do anything but sleep. It was a long time since he'd felt the exhaustion quite like this, seeping into his bones and drowning him, pulling him downwards as it filled his lungs, each breath an upwards battle. His legs were shaking, enough to make him stumble, and damnit, what was even wrong?

There was a memory like this, one where he'd lay on the floor as lead filled his body, and he didn't know why. He wasn't sure if he wanted to know at all.

Trembling hands slid his mask off his face and his armor off his body, before he collapsed into his bed, groaning in pain. He felt hot, too hot to deal with sleeping underneath a wool blanket, instead just curling up in the middle of his mattress, letting sleep drag his body into the depths.

His dreams were confusing, disjointed. He was on the floor, flames licking at his fingertips, coiling like it had a life of its own in his stomach. He stood on cracked stone, looking towards the vast expanse of nothingness speckled with stars, feeling his heart resonate with everything around him, so painfully familiar it made him cry. He stared deep into his mother's eyes, asking her why god had cursed him to be who he was, and she never answered, _never_ answered.

He woke up slowly, vision fuzzy, still just as warm as he'd been before. He didn't know the time, all he knew was that he didn't want to sleep anymore. The dreams, the voices, they never stopped, they overlapped and asked in unknown tongues for something he'd lost, they knew and _damnit_ he felt like he was going insane. His body thrummed with one heartbeat, amplifying the mess in his mind.

What was _wrong_ with him?

The first curls of pleasure raced through him, making him shudder as they intermingled with the heat. He would've panicked if his body wasn't already lost in it, his basic instincts instead calling for sex. He fucking hated it, hated being reduced to nothing more than a helpless, whorish beggar, but the pills hadn't worked for the first time in years, and he was going into heat, was already _in_ it.

The whole room smelled like him, a scent that was almost too unfamiliar to be his own. Aster flowers, but with something dark behind them, heavy and wet like velvet. Oh, it hurt, how he wanted to be freed from this, but these walls were his prison for the next few days as his body discovered itself again. The heat would ebb and flow, and he would be trapped in his own skull; how excruciating was that?

With the quietest and sweetest of sighs, he let himself fall to pieces.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> well. this is the last thing i thought i'd be writing, or actually posting, for that matter. sorry me from two weeks ago, but unfortunately, something incredibly not good happened to you and now the best coping mechanism you have is whatever the fuck this is. basically, this whole thing is a ridiculous metaphor for my life (go crazy, high school english teachers), but i also don't control my hyperfixations so it happens to be a Dream SMP au. ahaha, boy do i hate it here. anyway, if you came here for a ship fic or something, sorry to disappoint, but that is not what this is. this is literally just a vent fic but it's also ABO for some reason? i don't even like that trope i don't know why i'm using it? i guess i just wanted to make dream feel miserable or something. oh, sweet misery indeed.


	2. act I, scene II

"Where the hell is Dream?"

George was silent, letting the others yell about their missing leader while he puzzled over it himself; he'd never been absent for more than a few hours, and was a constant, hovering presence in all of their lives, so the sudden silence was strange. They'd even dragged Tommy out of exile to discuss it, because maybe he knew, but no, he didn't either, _nobody_ did. Wherever he happened to be, he was alone, that was the only thing they were certain about.

He just wanted to leave. It smelled like pure shit in the community house, what with so many people's scents mixing in distress, headstrong alpha dripping with omega syrup, and the din was unbearable. It wasn't like they were getting anything done, anyway.

"Can we stop yelling at each other for one minute and actually do something?" Philza said, not shouting but speaking in a commanding-enough tone to bring about a hush, "I know that this is weird, but right now we're no closer to figuring out where he went. We should split up and look for him, he might be stuck somewhere, or hurt, heaven forbid... anything strong enough to hurt Dream isn't something I want to meet, so make sure you have your armor equipped."

"I don't have any armor, Dream blew it all up," Tommy muttered, fists clenched as he stared at the floor.

"You can come with me, son." Philza's expression softened into something much more fatherly, rough around the edges but so warm that it made George's heart ache with a memory of his own.

"I can go check Dream's new house," George volunteered, desperate to leave. The air that was already thick with pheromones was now stifling, and goddamnit, he needed to breathe something that didn't smell like _everything._ Not waiting for an answer, he hefted his sword and left, inhaling deeply when he stepped outside; his head quickly clearing, he started off in the direction of Eret's castle.

He knew where Dream lived, but had never been inside, deciding that the other deserved his privacy. Sure, their relationship was _whatever_ it happened to be, but that didn't mean George wanted to dig into his private business. Just because Dream gave him flowers and cheated on his fiancé with him didn't mean he could barge in uninvited; if an alpha wanted to be left alone, it was best to just leave them alone.

Before he knew it, he was standing before the spruce door of his house, hand raised to rap at the wood. Cautiously, he knocked, jumping back when he heard a muffled thud from inside. His heart thudded at his ribcage, forcing his grip to tighten on the hilt of his sword instinctively as faint footsteps approached from inside.

"Dream?" George called, and was met with nothing but dead, terrifying silence. And oh so slowly, the door opened, creaking on its hinges as the familiar sight of Dream's mask peeked through the door with uncertainty. His teeth were clenched, hair ruffled from what he could see of it under his drawn-up hood; it was easy to tell that Dream wasn't doing well.

"I... I think you should go." Dream's voice warbled strangely, like he was fighting back other words and barely succeeding. George's stomach twisted in fear and in something else he couldn't quite place. It didn't seem like he'd be hurt, but his emotions were now directed towards his friend, worry and whatever unknown... pleasure he was feeling intermixing. He stepped forward, pulled by an invisible string, opening his mouth to taste the scent of flowers, letting it dance across his tongue.

Oh, he could get drunk off this. He was absolutely fucked, and he didn’t do anything to try and stop himself.

* * *

George wasn't supposed to be here, no alpha was supposed to come and find it, but damnit, George had smelled him, and neither of them resisted as their bodies came together, lips not meeting but George's mouth latching onto his neck, familiar and yet so unfamiliar. His body sang, reveling in the contact, and his stomach revolted, nausea rising as he pulled away just as quickly, stepping farther into his house in panic. George followed, dropping his sword with a dull clatter on the wood.

"What's wrong?" His voice was breathy, _needy._ He'd already been intoxicated by his pheromones, curse his biology.

"... I can't." Despite the heat boiling inside, burning searing paths through his limbs, he had to resist the urge. He couldn't do this, couldn't let George pleasure him, it wasn't _right._

"I have to help you, Dream. I don't want you to hurt."

"I can't let you see who I am under the mask." His voice became something low and smoky, and despite the internal cursing, he felt himself unable to resist the urge, stepping closer, pressing George against the wall with a casual hand. He put his other on his chest, sliding under his breastplate and feeling the other's heartbeat underneath his sweating, shaking palm.

Silence. The urge to vomit was as strong as his lust.

The laughter bubbled up in his throat, not in a pleasant way but in the way mud does. Instead of being sick, he swallowed back a hiccup, and spoke.

"I have a secret," he whispered, hating the seductive curl of his voice and the saccharine heaviness of it, but not resisting it as it slid out, "would you like to see?"

"I'd love to."

Oh, it wasn't what he deserved.

Dream reached back, and unclipped his mask, letting it fall to the ground. George simply stared, and he let him take him in like an art piece, his dark eyes with nothing in them but the void, the scales and spots decorating his cheeks like freckles, the sharp cut of his teeth. Almost human, but not quite, made with something else besides normal flesh and bone.

George reached out, setting a hand on his cheek without a single word. His eyes were filled with awe, not horror, and oh, they were both fucked, weren't they? Monster and man, alpha and omega, it was the perfect love story, was it not?

They weren't getting out of this without sex, and Dream finally accepted it, letting his resolve snap and falling into the heaviness of their scents.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh boy, another short chapter. i don't know why they start off like this, but they get longer.
> 
> again, kudos or comment if you enjoyed? i genuinely don't know if this is interesting or not :/


	3. act I, scene III

George was gone in the morning. Dream wasn't sure if he felt empty, glad, or what, but at least everything was normal again. He downed his pills, got dressed, and went to clip his mask on, a mask that had been left lying forlornly on the floor outside his bedroom.

He paused as he held it, turning it so the faded black smile was facing him. He let one of his hands fall to his side, and then move up to brush across his face, the bumps and scabs and imperfections he knew were underneath his fingertips. He had a half-full cauldron next to his brewing setup, and stepped over to it, gazing at his alien expression; he didn't like to look at himself, it was only a painful reminder of everything about him that was _wrong._

His eyes lacked whites or pupils, it was just inky, consuming darkness, and he shuddered looking at them. Everything else was almost normal, a caricature of a human, but his eyes, his damned eyes, made him into a monster. George had looked at him with admiration last night--Dream crushed the flickering love that threatened to rise at that thought, a sharp growl leaving his throat. George was nothing but a quick fuck, something to fix his heat and nothing else. He'd never loved him before, and it was only his _disgusting_ biology that tried to cling onto the connection.

He'd be rid of the feelings soon. George didn't love him, he loved his body and the pleasure he got from using it. It was harsh, but the truth. He'd never said he loved him last night, not during any part of it. Not when Dream bent down and begged to be fucked, not when Dream took his length in his mouth and did whatever he fucking asked, not when George knotted and moaned, not during _anything._

God, it made him feel _sick._ He stepped outside to vomit in the grass, letting the bile drip down his exposed chin, and then finally donned his mask. The last few traces of George, gone, as they should be.

He was going to have a normal day, by _god_ he was, and he'd never think about it again. He'd never think about the weakness, the weakness he'd been running from for his whole life, from the second he was born and his real mother put him out in the woods to die, although it was her fault for fucking whatever monster had made him into himself. People were selfish, the world, sucked, and Dream was going to go act like a pretentious asshole. Not the best coping mechanism, but he didn't have anything else.

He found himself in L'Manberg before long, aimlessly wandering the paths as the sun rose steadily behind him. He didn't think much, deciding that it would be better to stay out of his head. Last night would remain a memory, the only memory of how George ravished him being the ache in his hips that made it hard to walk. He was gone and it was gone and damnit he was fucking scared--

A deep breath, and he was out of his head. He had explaining to do, places to be, and demons to run from. Another breath, increasing the distance, striding away, moving towards someone else, something else. The sun rose and set, the stars came out, time moved and so did he.

Fuck, if it didn't hurt.

The last night was filled with heat and empty passion. Now, Dream was so, so cold. His blood gave him frostbite and he was curled up in the same spot, shaking. Everything hurt everywhere; what was the reason for his suffering? What had he done to deserve this bullshit?

He fell in and out of sleep, his dreams just as confusing as before. They were dead silent, full of movement and wind and snowfall, jumping under the gun, running into the vast grayness of the winter's sky, his movements slowing, slowing, _slowing_ as his bones fell to pieces in the terrible weather. He shattered and cracked and woke up seeing his breath, only to fall back under, tangled in his sheets and the deafness. A sword pierced his stomach, and the man holding the blade was him, mask smiling viscously as the blood dripped in the snow, scattering the petals of his scent in the roaring gale.

Morning was almost welcome for once, if only because he was escaping the poeticism of his strange dreamscape. He'd never slept well, had never dreamed like normal, but these were too cruel to get used to. They felt more like prophecies, or bad omens, bringing something that he wasn't going to be much of a fan of; the hell did he know.

Well, there was another miserable day ahead, he could worry later. He explained his absence, did nothing, and then damnit, right when he was about to get back home, there was George. Confrontation was terrifying, and Dream had felt enough fear in the last few days. He smelled like pine sap; Dream gagged, trying not to be sick. He remembered pressing his nose into his scent glands, breathing it in like a drug, but now, it was nothing but nauseating.

"Hey Dream? Can we... talk about things?"

"Fucking Christ..." he muttered, grimacing and not caring enough to pretend like he wasn't pissed off, "What?"

"Jeez, why are you so angry? I just wanted to ask what happened, and--"

"You know _exactly_ what happened, George," Dream snarled. God, he just wanted to run away, this was the last conversation he wanted to be having.

"I woke up on your floor after I went looking for you, and I have no clue what happened," he blurted, hands forming into strained fists. He was unreadable; was he angry, sad, or scared? The pathetic omega in him balked at the possibility of George being upset.

"... Oh."

Dream had not considered the that he simply didn't remember. The distinction between ethanol or bombykol was unimportant, it seemed, you could get drunk off either. He'd heard many describe omega's scents as intoxicating, maybe there was science behind it. Or, George chose to not remember, simply because the experience had been revolting enough. Most humans had the brain capacity to hate their base instincts, the parts of them that were controlled by their crotch and other people's sweaty chemicals. Dream was no different, after all.

"I'm sorry. I thought you remembered, but I suppose you... don't. It's for the best, anyway."

"But-- what happened? Something's wrong, I..."

"I said it's for the best if you don't remember," Dream repeated, the steel returning to his voice. He hated this conversation, _couldn't it just end?_

"I have a right to know what I did! I'm not stupid Dream, I know _something_ happened and I'm afraid I hurt you! In fact, it's pretty obvious I did."

"... I can trust you, right?"

"I really hope you do. Friends trust friends, it makes sense."

"I feel like I can't trust anybody these days. Maybe I'm just a monster and everybody hates me, but damnit if I wish I wasn't on edge all the time. I wish I could just tell you without asking that. I'm just fucking tired, I _wish_ the voice in the back of my head would just _shut up_ and stop telling me that you're going to tell everybody else and ruin me."

Vulnerability was terrifying, Christ. Dream's hands shook, his throat closing like he was drowning, like the water was going to rush in again and choke him until the darkness finally came, a blessing or curse, who knew.

He faced down death, or maybe it was just the embodiment of the monster under his bed, the fear of the unknown. A leap of faith, and he fell.

"But I'm not supposed to be a scared person, am I? I'm supposed to be a leader. So, I'm going to say it like it is, and you can come to whatever conclusion you want to: we had sex last night."

"... What?" There were so many emotions in that one word, sadness, confusion, something that was wishing it wasn't real, something else that was, and _fuck_ his stomach hurt. He wanted to vomit again, seeing somebody so familiar twisted up in something unfamiliar, remembering lust and heat instead of the friendship, and it hurt so bad he decided to forge ahead. Running from his problems instead of facing him; his world was upside down, his legs hurt, what the fuck was even happening anymore.

"I went into heat, and you came and found me. We both made stupid choices, we goaded each other to do it, and now, we're here. It stings how many times I said I loved you, how you never said it back, but honestly, the whole thing's weird, so who cares. I was lying anyway, lying about everything.

"So yeah, of course I was scared to say that, since it fucking ruined our relationship. You saw me under the mask, under my clothes, the layers that peel back when the pills are gone and it's just _me._ It sucks a lot. I don't know how things are going to go back to being the same, but this is our new normal or whatever, so we've got to get used to it."

Silence. Dream wished he could cut the intangible tension, but instead, he was forced to stare at the reflection of his mask in George's glasses, warped and strange.

"Shit. I... just... shit, this is... I don't know how to talk about these kinds of things. I'm not good at it, I just sleep through the important stuff. I can't just hide this time, but now I don't know how to tell you that I think it's going to be... okay, I guess. I helped you with your heat, I don't remember it, and we're going to move on. We're still friends."

"The fact that I'm an omega?"

"Doesn't matter. Dream, do you really think I care about something dumb like that?"

"Some people do," he muttered, feeling strangely childish.

"Nobody here does. Nobody here."

_So why don't I feel relief?_


	4. act I, scene IV

George was right about the new normal, at least. It was easy to slip into his life again, doing the same things and talking to the same people. And despite the fact that he hated it, he'd come to realize that he wasn't scared of being an omega at all, if one could be scared of such a thing. He was scared of the fact that, if he revealed one secret, all of the other ones that would _actually_ harm him would come spilling out, if only to take the near-unbearable weight of _himself_ off his shoulders.

As long as he didn't take off the mask, it would be okay, wouldn't it? The note of desperation in that thought was frightening, but warranted.

The pills fucking sucked, and damnit if he wasn't tempted to stop taking them. He knew they weren't good for him, and the health issues were catching up; they wouldn't put him in the grave, but they certainly made him feel like he was in it at times. Was heat three times a year preferable to the aches, the pains, the headaches, the nausea, _everything?_

Of course it was. It was for the best that he went off them, and found another way to cope with the issue. So he took the damned pouch and threw it out his window, saying goodbye to familiarity as he did so. His scent would come back, the natural urges quelled by the lack of hormones would once again return, his body itself would change... fuck, if he wasn't scared to see himself turn into something shunned.

Yes, he didn't like looking at himself, but his reflection caught his eye in the glass, and he looked, looked at what was so familiarly unknown to him. Instead of his face, he looked at everything else, feeling the revulsion but at the same time ignoring it. His arms were strong and lean, his chest broad and chiseled, and below that, it was all wrong.

A penis didn't make you a man, but to his mind, it did. Woven into his every cell, every piece of his being, was _male,_ but his body didn't express it like he thought it should. There was omega in there, too. Omega to take away what he wanted, _normalcy. H_ e felt cobbled together and all he could think when he saw himself was _wrong._ His hips were curved, his stomach dipped into nothing, his thighs were shaped like delicate clay, _god_ it just didn't fit him.

He just wanted to not be himself.

Was that too much to ask for? Of course it was, he was stuck with this body until the day he died, but he could pray all he wanted to empty air that he'd wake up and see what he wanted in the glass. He was a great warrior, a respected-enough leader, but neither of those things would fix anything at all. None of those things mattered in the end.

He couldn't look at himself anymore or he was going to be sick. He slipped on the mask to cover the beast, and clothes to make him forget. He caught the scent of aster petals as he reached for his armor, and his nose scrunched up as he realized that soon, he'd be smelling that everywhere. No longer suppressed, he would once again carry the scent of an omega, the sweetness and sugar, marking him as something to be controlled. His skin, his clothes, the air around him. He didn't often admit it, but he _hated_ himself; what he would give to tear himself apart, let the blood spill on the floor, feel his sinews snapping, everything breaking like it should.

Death, perfection... where did the lines blur? When did the pain stop? Both were questions that he wouldn't be finding the answer to in his lifetime, and it was so excruciating to think of mortality that he faced the outside instead, headed straight for L'Manberg. He held his sword in a vice grip, as if the weapon would somehow be able to fend off the misery; he had to be brave, he _had_ to do this to prove to absolutely nobody that he was strong.

It didn't take long to make it to the other nation, the lands where he'd spilt so much blood all those months ago. He wasn't sure how to feel, taking in the rolling hills and mess of homes, instead choosing to keep his mind on more trivial matters. He vaulted onto the wooden boardwalk, quickly shoving his hands into his pockets and sheathing his sword as he let the tension leave his shoulders. The morning air was refreshing, and the scenery pleasant enough to help ease some of his worries and take a bit of the ever-present weight off his chest.

And then, there was a voice, energetic and much too loud for his liking, approaching from behind. He whipped around to find Quackity running up, grinning as usual 

"Hey Dream! I haven't seen you in a while, man!" He skidded to a halt, looking him up and down, familiar joy shifting into something more serious and concerned. "You look like you've, uh... seen some shit?"

"Don't worry about it," he replied, keeping his voice as light as possible. He just had to keep easing back into things, pretending like nothing had happened at all a few days ago and everything was _just fine._ His mind spat out the last few words, chewed up and ruined from so many repetitions, promising himself it would be _fine, fine, fine,_ and that _nothing_ was wrong even though it so very much _was._

"Well... hey, did you like, ever have a scent before? Because I'm definitely getting something off of you now and I wasn't before, but I..."

"I decided I was going to stop hiding this morning, that's all."

"... Hiding what? Why are you so goddamned cryptic all the time, I just want to know what you mean and suddenly you're acting like play-dough or something--"

"Play-dough? Don't you mean Plato?" Dream forced a laugh, eager to shift the topic of conversation away from the terrifyingly-inevitable road it was going down; he just had to push it back a _bit more,_ because _fuck_ he was scared. A great warrior, reduced to a stuttering mess from something completely intangible and utterly meaningless in the great scheme of things... wasn't that just pathetic.

"You know what I mean, man! You're just... you've been acting really weird lately and it's kinda making everybody worried. Especially after what happened a bit ago, with you just kind of disappearing for a day and then not really explaining yourself at all. None of us have ever really confronted you because you kinda scare the shit out of us sometimes, but like, we do... want you to be okay, you know? Fuck, I'm bad at this kind of stuff, but you know?

".... Thanks."

Dream wasn't sure what else he was supposed to say. He so badly wanted to care about Quackity's words, he wanted them to have meaning, but they were nothing but dust on the wind, lost and impermanent. Words couldn't fix a _fucking_ thing, no matter how hard one tried to make them. They were spoken only to disappear, _everything_ existed to only disappear. It was just too much to handle.

He remembered the first time somebody ever told him that, so many years ago that the memory was a haze. He stood on a rooftop, the storm around him drowning out every sound except for one: the person yelling to him. He had climbed up to save them, because they seemed trapped, but no, they weren't, they were up there on purpose. Lightning struck, and they moved to jump, but hesitated, looking back at him, just shy of ten years old, face uncovered and eyes so wide and sweet. 

_I don't mean anything in the end, I'm only speeding up the process. We're all going to be in the dirt soon._

He didn't want to think about the way their body looked when they finally fell. Like a dead bird, body twisted and covered in blood. It still made him feel sick. He wondered if their ghost was still out there, and if so, what they thought about him carrying their memory for so long. Their body ceased to exist, but he still allowed them to; what meant more, a person or their legacy? What was anybody but a footprint, made in the sand next to rising water. 

_And what I wouldn't give to be washed away._

"Uh... hey man? You in there?" Dream flinched as Quackity's fingers were snapped in front of his face, a monotonous thudding betraying the time he'd been waiting. He stopped tapping his foot, but crossed his arms, staring Dream down in the kind of way that made his skin crawl, like he was looking into his soul. It almost made him draw his sword, as if he could somehow fend off prying eyes. 

All problems couldn't be solved with violence; it was a lesson that was painful to learn, but important, if you were a warrior. Charisma was just as important as strength. 

"Yeah, just thinking. I've had a lot to think about these past few days." Dream sighed, unable to come up with a more eloquent response. Despite his exhaustion, his mind continued to race at a mile a minute, no matter how hard he tried to focus on the matter at hand.

"I mean... Fuck it, if I die here, I die. I'm offering you somebody to talk to, even though you've been the world's biggest asshole to everybody here. You've almost killed us like a million times, you've blown up our home, you've only ever aided our enemies, and now Tommy's fucking gone--I should hate you, but I just... I just can't, man. You seem so tired these days, and so sad, it's hard to be pissed at a guy who looks like the fight's just left him. I've always known that you're a person behind all of... whatever this whole act is, and I'm seeing it now."

"Who said I'm tired? I'm just fine, you're weird--"

"Don't play those games with me, I'm trying my damn hardest to be nice to you, dude. We're not your little--your little pawns, your chess pieces that you can push around without worrying about consequences, we're real people and we have brains." Quackity stabbed his index finger on his temple for emphasis, fixing Dream with a serious expression. "We don't just exist when you're around, either. People talk, and so do we. We talk about you and how we hate your guts even though we're really fucking worried about you. You look like shit right now, full offense. Like, it's so obvious you're _hurting."_

"... Am I really so transparent?"

He thought he'd done a good job, hiding it. Hiding the pain, the misery, _everything_ that had been built up over his years of life. He hadn't. He knew everybody around him was a person, of _course_ he did--but maybe he had forgotten.

He'd let himself slip. He just fucking _forgot_ that they had limits, _somehow._ He was the monster, wasn't he? He was exactly what hid under the mask, and the act he thought he'd put on wasn't really an act at all. Manipulative, shitty, horrific, monstrous--

They knew, _fuck_ they all knew, they knew about everything, they _had to--_

Dream wasn't sure when he'd ended up on the ground, but suddenly, he was on his knees, gripping his forearms until they ached. His breath came out in harsh pants, his chest constricting as he felt everything hit him at once.

God, they knew, didn't they? They saw _him,_ George must've remembered, he'd been lying, he told them about what he was made of, the empty, soulless eyes under equally empty ceramic, smooth and unfeeling and--

Something touched his shoulder, warm and solid. It scared him. He lashed out, batting it away as he started to shake. He couldn't let anybody see him, he had to get away, but his _fucking_ legs wouldn't move and he kept shaking; was he crying? What was the wetness on his cheeks?

He thought he'd found a home here, but he'd been _so_ wrong. He'd been cast out so many times, forgotten and despised; he'd tried to make it be different this time, but it wasn't because he _sucked_ and he couldn't _be_ a good person. He was built from things that were jagged and harsh, darkness woven into the web that made up him, in every fragment and memory. 

No matter how hard he tried, he _always_ fucked it up. 

_"DREAM!"_

Quackity's voice scared him worse than anything, not enough to make him open his eyes, but enough to drag him closer towards the world in front of him again. He was aware of the acidic sting of bile in his mouth, and the tingling on his shoulder from where he'd been touched, a reminder. 

_Fuck,_ he hadn't done that in a long time, and _why_ did it have to be in front of _Quackity?_

"Dream, snap out of it, I-I'm right here, don't hit me again because that really hurt actually--fuck, uh, Ranboo, how do you fix him--"

"You don't 'fix' a panic attack, just keep talking to him like you're doing."

"Err, okay, uh... Dream, you're gonna be okay? Try to breathe, you'll stop shaking. It works for me."

_Why is this happening? It's like before, when he'd... I'd... fuck, I don't remember. I don't remember it, why don't I remember anything?_

No, it wasn't the time to try and piece together repressed memories. Quackity was next to him, talking, and Ranboo was nearby somewhere. They were here, and they weren't revolted, he could get out of this.

Body still trembling, Dream forced his eyes open, staring down at the dusty wood in front of him as he blinked away the tears. It was difficult to get to his feet, but he managed, once again at eye level with Quackity, and Ranboo loomed behind, almost threatening with his height. He was half enderman and nobody cared, while Dream was half _whatever_ the fuck he was and he'd been told he was a defective product for his entire life; why was that _okay?_

He couldn't get angry at him, not now, but it was hard to keep a straight face.

"You doing better, Dream?" Ranboo asked, tilting his head. Concern laced his words, so genuine, and Dream's jaw clenched involuntarily; he wanted to hate him, why did he have to be so _nice?_

"... Yes." He turned to leave, not wanting to face anybody after his public meltdown, but he felt another hand on his shoulder, touch like molten lava. "Don't touch me."

Quackity backed up immediately, hands raised in the air, as if _that_ was going to placate him. "I'm sorry, I just... Do you want to talk about anything?"

"I don't trust people with my problems. It's only ever fucked everything up in the past, even if I--I can't _remember_ why." Dream's voice turned into a harsh growl, too much frustration seeping through-- _damnit_ he wasn't going to get out of this without being forced to talk about something at this rate, he was being too emotional, _this was precisely the reason he didn't try to befriend these people--_

"Hey. You obviously don't want to talk right now, I get that. But we _know_ you're struggling. It's okay to not be okay, has anybody ever told you that? It's okay to talk to people about your problems, it's okay to open up, it's okay to cry, it's okay to be _vulnerable_ even if it's the scariest thing you've ever done. It's clear that you've never had anyone tell you this before, and I'm sorry. I'm sorry for everything that's screwed you up in the past." Ranboo spoke softly, but with conviction, each word tearing into him, digging deeper and deeper into his mind. _Why_ did it have to _hurt_ so much? Why couldn't he just let himself be cared about? When had the wires gotten crossed?

"I can't talk about this right now. I'm not that kind of person, that's not going to _fix_ me or whatever you want it to. I don't want to hear anymore concern, I'm going to be _fine,_ and I'd recommend that you stop worrying about it, that's final. This is my life, and I am going to do what I please with it."

Dream started to walk away, finally unhindered. There, he'd done it, he'd isolated himself further, just what he wanted. He wouldn't have felt satisfaction no matter what he did, but at least he still had a semblance of control after falling apart.

"You're not in control of your own life, Dream. Letting everything go to crap isn't control, it's saying that you give up. Don't keel over and die, don't pretend like everything's going to be okay when it's not, try to open yourself up because you're _not_ in control. Stop pretending."

He froze, standing completely still. Two pairs of footsteps made their way in the opposite direction from him, and yet, he still stood in silence, trying to comprehend what he'd just been told. 

"I'll _make_ it so I'm in control again," he muttered, and with that, he walked out of L'Manberg.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> gender dysphoria sucks, eh?
> 
> gonna slow down on the updates for the week since i'm busy. i'm getting surgery at the end of the week, while i'm recovering i'll write and post more. kudos and comments are always appreciated.


	5. act I, scene V

It took a few days for people to truly start to notice that Dream's secondary sex wasn't what they had thought it was previously. The scent of flowers with something heavier behind it, not just a pleasant smell but a smell that drew attention. Heads started to turn, taking in the unfamiliarity, drawing curiosity. In the end, biology ruled, and biology knew what a healthy, strong omega smelled like. Biology knew what it wanted to look at. 

Nobody approached him for a time, as he expected. Obviously, the pieces clicked into place, but a mix of fear and indifference contributed to the silence. He tried to let life continue, desperately scrambling for the control he promised himself, and he let people theorize all they wanted. Maybe he was too caught up in this, and nobody even cared in the first place. It didn't really matter, did it?

But he couldn't escape from the _thought,_ the _terror_ of knowing the layers were peeling back. He was already on thin ice, and he'd be positively fucked soon if he didn't get something worked out. How did one take control of their life back? Committing some sort of horrible atrocity could scare everybody around him into submission, but they could also fight back. Could he start being honest and open? It was better to rule by fear than by love, but fear wasn't _working,_ he was losing his goddamned mind trying to make this keep him in power. Would he even be capable of being a decent person at this point, or was his personality just _wrong_ now?

He hated being the scared one, but here he was. Oh, he felt awful. All he wanted was for things to be right, but he didn't even know what _right_ looked like to him. His mind was splitting in two, echoes of rationality and insanity ringing through his skull. He remembered when he contemplated putting a pickaxe through the damned bone; fuck, if he wasn't tempted to, with how unbearable it had become. 

And then, there was Sapnap. Sapnap, with the worried smile and kind eyes, appearing at his doorstep when the sun was dipping below the horizon. He just stepped inside, not needing an invitation to know he was welcome.

The first words out of his mouth were "you know I care about you," and fuck it all, Dream wanted to scream. He'd heard that enough times over the past week, but here it was again, spoken with a certain gentleness, a love that was forged from years of friendship. This was the man who had pulled him from the depths of despair and the shittiest childhood one could imagine, the man he couldn't even remember meeting because the memory was so repressed. 

He didn't love anybody in a romantic way, wasn't sure if he could or ever had, but he loved Sapnap in the way that tore you apart. He clung onto him for dear life, and he didn't care if it got him killed, _this_ was a person he needed to keep breathing.

"I know." His voice was quiet, laced with as much sadness as warmth. They'd said those words to each other many, many times, and the answer had always been the same, no matter what.

"A lot of people have tried telling you that they know you're struggling, and they want to help, and they're always there, or whatever bullshit. _I_ know that you're not going to say a single thing to them. So here I am, one of your closest friends. Talk this time."

"It's scary, you know. To finally let people know that I'm an omega."

Sapnap knew, of course. He'd known since he'd presented; they'd done so a week apart, who could forget that. They'd been excited back then, omega and beta, fascinated by the unknown. Now, it was just tiring. 

It hurt to think of how brutally his childhood innocence had been ripped to shreds. He just wished he could've held onto it for a bit longer, prolonged the inevitable.

"But it's not this scary, is it? It's not enough to make you have a panic attack in public, it's not enough to make you cry, it's not enough to really _scare_ you. I've never seen you terrified like this before. There's more. There's always more to you, you idiot. When are you going to realize that you're doing the wrong things with yourself?"

"I don't want to realize. I feel guilty enough as it is, for playing fast and loose with my life. I take everything for granted, I abuse what I've seen lost, and I can't _face_ myself. I can't look at my reflection without feeling the most visceral disgust-- I _can't_ do it. I don't want to try and fix the mess I've made."

"I'm gonna be blunt, man: you're being immature."

Dream chuckled bitterly, tone soaked in venom. "I know I am, Sapnap, I _know._ My mother left when I was born, I watched children die, I... I watched things fail again and again, so many times, before I was even ten. I grew up so fast that I never learned how to be an adult. I don't have the slightest clue what I'm doing, and I'd rather not. I don't want to see everything I've done wrong, it's been wrong enough in the past."

"... Do you remember when we met? What you told me?"

"I forgot. I forgot because I can't remember anything that hurts. I'm like that stupid ghost, I just block out the bad stuff like some sort of... some sort of _coward."_

"Everybody copes differently, you're not wrong for doing that."

"I don't care, frankly."

"Well, if you want to know, I told you this: I told you that you were gonna get better, and you swore on everything you'd ever known that you were. You took that oath, and here you are breaking it. You're so, so afraid right now, but it doesn't have to be like this if you'd just start giving a shit about anything. So look me in my eyes, look into my _fucking_ soul, and tell me what's _wrong."_

In silence, Dream pulled his mask off, and let it fall to the floor. He didn't take his eyes away. He stared just like he was dared to, like he was young and playing some sort of game. 

"Take it in, motherfucker. This is who I've always been."

There wasn't disgust on Sapnap's face, but there was shock. He took it all in and he let him, finally let the secrets spill out and burn him, molten rock dripping from his chest. It hurt, oh did it hurt. He let it.

"... Am I supposed to be scared of you now? Did you do this thinking I was going to start hating you?"

 _Yes, because you're supposed to hate a monster,_ Dream tried to say, but the words got stuck in his throat.

"There's a half-enderman half who fucking knows on our server. Eret has pure white eyes. Techno's part piglin. Do you think this matters? I didn't know you weren't fully human, but it doesn't mean anything, it's not something that you need to hide anymore."

"I'm not made of flesh that anybody here knows. This isn't a mob, this isn't something familiar. I've hurt people, I don't know when to stop... it's obvious this is the reason I'm so unhinged. I just can't understand things like humans do. I'm a _demon._ "

"You're being idiotic right now, Dream! Listen: Bad's a demon too, and he's like the nicest guy here. You can absolutely be nice, you just won't admit it to yourself that you're completely, and I mean _completely_ in control of your actions. You act like an asshole on _purpose,_ don't blame it on biology. Stop making excuses. Fucking _own up._ I know you've got compassion, I've known you for ages. So stop. Stop pretending, and actually do something."

_Dream held the knife, watching the blood drip from the throat in front of him with grim satisfaction. He was getting good at this now, he was becoming exactly what he should be. A honed killed on the rise; this was his time._

_"Hey. Stop." A boy with dark, unruly hair stepped up, a warning in his tone. The ends of his headband rippled in the breeze. He didn't look particularly frightening, but he had iron armor while Dream had none, and he didn't want to take on somebody with better gear._

_"Why should I? I'm destined to do this, why run?" Dream reached up to touch his mask, knowing the bloody fingerprints he would leave behind. Under the mask, there was a monster. Under the mask, there was who he was always meant to be._

_"Destiny is stupid, you should just do whatever you want. It feels bad to be mean, don't you feel bad now?" The boy wasn't the most eloquent, but something about his words resonated, stirring the faintest dredges of guilt in his mind. "You can be better then this, I'll help you if you want."_

_And then he made the oath, the oath he forgot, washing away the blood._

He didn't know why the memory of meeting Sapnap finally came to him, but there it was. He was in control, he just wanted to fall to pieces. He failed, he fucked up, but could he try to make it right again?

"I'll... try. For you."

"And you'll try for yourself?"

_I don't know if I can._

"Sure."

* * *

He went to Tommy the next day and let him go back home, discs in hand. He seemed stunned, but ran back to L'Manberg, leaving Dream to mull over every terrible thing he'd done to the boy. He'd tortured and manipulated a kid, wasn't that just fucked? He was too tired to keep doing it; Sapnap was right, it was so, so exhausting to be terrible. 

It was always him versus Tommy and Tubbo, but it was a meaningless conflict now. It was over. 

"Why did you just... give up? Where did the fight go? Did anything ever really mean anything!?" Tubbo paced in his office while Dream lounged in the chair facing his desk, not answering any questions. Tubbo might've been able to ask for him to come, but that didn't mean he wanted to do anything once he'd arrived. 

How could he even begin to explain it, and to a child, no less?

"I couldn't do it anymore, Tubbo. I couldn't let myself become any worse."

"... I don't... I just don't understand why you're doing it now of all times. What prompted this? I-It doesn't make any sense, you just... you just woke up and decided to suddenly drop everything? We've been at this for months, what made these last few days different?"

"I came to realize something about myself, and that was that I wasn't fated to become who I was. I thought it was inevitable that I'd be a monster, but the circumstances of my birth didn't turn me into an asshole, I did. I said it to Quackity, and now I'll say it to you: I'm done hiding. Hiding behind--behind these dumb excuses. "

"... I feel a bit like that too, sometimes. That I can't stop myself from becoming the next Schlatt." Tubbo ran a hand through his hair, hitting the stubs of his horns, and both knew what they were thinking. Being raised by that man did not seem like the kind of thing that would put you in a good mental state. "He's my dad, and I always hear that children are supposed to, I dunno, carry on their parent's legacy?"

"But you don't have to."

"But I don't have to," Tubbo affirmed. 

_And I don't have to either._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (edit 1/13/21)- i forgot the whole ending part of the chapter that bridges into the next section, fuck... classic me, forgetting essential plot. anyway, there's more. i'll put a reminder at the end of the next chapter to make sure people see what i've put in the end. whoops. 
> 
> after this, it's time to get into the main plot. i can never get away from doing long, convoluted introductions as a writer, and this one is ten thousand words. i have no concept of how long things are since i read so fast, but looking back, this is a bit ridiculous. well, hope you're all enjoying regardless, i really didn't expect this to get any sort of engagement, so thanks for reading.


	6. act II, scene I

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i fucked up a bit on the last chapter and left off the ending part when i first posted. it's updated now, so if you didn't read the last few paragraphs after the line break, please go do so before reading. sorry for the hassle, i'm going to try to not post these so late at night as to avoid any silly mistakes like that.

Goddamnit, things were supposed to be okay again. No matter how hard he wished it, that didn't stop the vomit from dripping down his chin for the fourth time that week, stomach cramping painfully. He had gotten to enjoy a month of tentative peace, and now here he was, watching everything crashing and burning.

He was still in a state of denial, reminding himself that _maybe_ it was just a sickness, but in the end, it was painfully obvious what was wrong. The shitty mood, the headaches, the constant feeling of a head cold, the drops of blood cropping up in his pants, the fatigue, and of course, the nausea, persistently lurking but always worse in the _mornings._

"Fuck..." he muttered, wiping away the fluid with a shaking hand and straightening up, looking at the mess he'd left in the half-full cauldron in front of him. Time to go dump it out again, and try to move on, pretending like it was okay. He had a meeting with Tubbo, there was no time to get caught up in things he couldn't change. No need to admit to himself yet.

Just keep moving forward, that was how he'd been living since Sapnap came and gave him a metaphorical slap in the face, and that's how he was going to try to keep going. L'Manberg had been thriving, he was once again becoming the wise leader he had been before he'd gone mad over the discs-- but when the people around him learned what had slowly dawned over him over the past few days, would he still be able to remain in power? 

Would they think he was irresponsible? Would they be upset that he had once again tried to hide something, after he swore himself to honesty?

 _No, no,_ he had to think about the meeting. He had an alliance to maintain, an _image_ to maintain, he couldn't worry about the future. Just live in the moment, and accept things as they were, that was something Sapnap had told him. 

The halls of L'Manberg's shining new capitol building were silent and empty as Dream trekked up the stairs to Tubbo's office. Polished andesite met dark oak, blocks that he himself had donated to them as an acknowledgement of their independence, and he couldn't help but feel some sense of pride. He may have harmed them in the past, but now, here he was, going to speak to the president of a prospering nation, respected once again.

He rapped on the office's door, struggling to catch his breath even after such a short walk. He hoped Tubbo would give him some pause, but he quickly called out for him to enter, and he stepped inside, steeling his nerves. Despite his efforts, the tension had never faded when he interacted with these people, no matter how much he wished he could just _fix_ things. Maybe this time, he'd make it better.

Maybe this time, something would go right.

"Hello Dream!" Tubbo spun around on his chair, a small yet genuine, smile on his face. He gestured to the chair across from him, and Dream took a seat, shifting uncomfortably in the plush leather. "So, uh... negotiations, right?"

"Yes. I have a few things that need to be discussed, mostly dealing with citizenship. I suppose we'll just cut to the chase; will you allow dual citizenship of both L'Manberg and the Dream SMP?"

"Yeah, that seems reasonable. I guess people would just... come to the embassy to apply. Wow, I need to actually get a process worked out for that, we've never had _legally_ recognized citizens." The wonder in Tubbo's voice was enough to make Dream grin slightly; he'd done this, and it was a good thing, wasn't it?

"If you'd like help with it, I already run a system similar to that for letting new citizens join us in these lands. We don't have a citizenship test, but if you'd like to run one--"

"No, that's too much, I think people can just... apply. I really don't know how this works, I'm going to need a lot of your help... man..."

"It's going to be alright, Tubbo. You don't want this to be a complicated process, that's the first thing to... keep in mind, I suppose."

"I mean, I don't really want to have strict laws, you're right. As long as people follow what laws we already have in place, they can just come in whenever. I don't think becoming a citizen should be difficult either."

"That's indeed reasonable--the obsidian walls that I put down before were... unreasonable. No country that is supposed to be welcoming should have walls."

Tubbo stiffened slightly. "That was... one of our problems before, yeah. I wasn't in power then, but even though we'd all like to think Wilbur used to be a good leader, I really don't--I... I don't know what I'm saying, I guess I just feel like..."

"People have different ideas of what they believe is for the best, and in this case, I think neither hurt that much. Wilbur did make a special place, isn't that what the anthem says?"

"Yeah, he made a special place, but I don't know if it was a _good_ place."

"L'Manberg isn't its past, it's whatever you make it now. It came from blood, but now, we're peaceful. You've made it great."

"That's not what I'm trying to say, Dream, I'm saying that... How do I phrase this? I'm worried that I did the wrong thing, and that I'm doing the wrong thing. I just can't stop thinking about the fact that I wasn't elected, I was just... _put_ here. They elected Schlatt, and he took down the walls, he opened things up, he... I hated to admit it, but when Tommy asked me if I was happier, a part of me _was._ It was almost peaceful, and then I went and took power. Now I'm just doing the same sorts of things, and it just makes me wonder if maybe _I'm_ becoming him."

"Not everything is about politics. You're a much kinder, genuine person than he was; Schlatt had no friends, no allies, no _nothing._ You have surrounded yourself with good people."

"But what if I stop being a good person and I don't even notice?" Tubbo's voice was small, and he shrunk in on himself, looking much more like the child that was behind his confident exterior. 

"You're not going to become Schlatt just because he's your father."

"But... damnit, I just wish he wasn't my dad. I wouldn't compare myself to him like this if he wasn't, I would just be able to _be normal_ about all of this because of _course_ I'm better, but...

"Leaders.. Leaders shouldn't have kids. This is what happens."

Dream's blood froze in his veins.

_Leaders shouldn't have kids._

He was so, so right. _Fuck._

"They shouldn't," Dream whispered, managing to keep his tone steady. He could worry about that later, he could tear his hair out over that comment after the meeting if he wanted to, but not now.

"All I can do is compare myself to him," Tubbo continued, louder, "and worry if somehow I'm just destined to become whatever the hell he was. I don't _want_ to be a monster, but what if it happens? What if it happens so slowly that I don't even notice, like Schlatt? He wasn't so bad, back when I was young, from what I remember, before Philza got me. He kept me fed and he gave me a place to sleep, he did his very best and _this_ is how I repay him? I just wish he'd never become president, because maybe then he would've stayed okay. Maybe having power just corrupts you no matter what."

"What matters about power is how you use it. A person with power should always be aware of it, and you are almost _too_ aware. I remember, a long time ago, somebody told me that bad people don't worry about getting better."

_"I hurt a lot of people, Sapnap, I did a lot of things bad." Dream kept his eyes aimed at the ground, kicking whatever rocks and pebbles were in his path. "I don't know why you want to be my friend."_

_"Well, I can tell that you're a good person, because bad people don't worry about getting better. You're all sad about hurting people, which means you don't wanna do it anymore!_

"Y-you're right. I'm doing a good job, and I just have to make sure I keep doing that." Tubbo took a deep breath, composing himself. "Sorry, this meeting got really off track, huh?"

"It certainly did, but you needed the reassurance."

"I like you now, Dream. You wouldn't've done that before, but now you're all... wise again. It's nice. Thank you."

He wasn't quite sure how to respond to that, and instead, finished talking politics. Nobody had good places to talk about their emotions and show such vulnerability in the SMP; Tubbo was only a child, he needed that support more than anybody. Dream had provided it, but it was truly exhausting, and he couldn't do it anymore. 

The meeting finished soon after, and Dream excused himself, hurriedly exiting the office before moving downstairs and ducking into an unused side room, unable to keep the panic at bay for any longer. He got sick in a flower pot and curled up against the wall, hating how pathetic he was but unable to drag himself to his feet and pull himself together.

_Leaders shouldn't have kids._

It was all too much.

_Maybe having power just corrupts you no matter what._

Blowing up L'Manberg to save his own skin, waging war against children to stay in power, exiling only to demonstrate his unwavering control. 

_All I can do is compare myself to him._

And now was the time that he had to truly confront it. He knew the signs, and despite the grief crashing over him, the despair as he considered the future before him, he couldn't deny it anymore. He would be a fool to keep living such an obvious lie.

He was going to have a baby.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as a dual citizen, i can say that getting citizenship in another country sucks. the forms i had to fill out... well, i'll make it easy for the citizens of l'manberg at least. 
> 
> legal talk aside, here we go. time for some uncomfortable conversations and general misery.


	7. act II, scene II

He found himself at George's doorstep, the grass around him still bearing scorch marks from all those months ago. After his breakdown, his legs had carried him here almost automatically, because damnit, he needed to get this figured out. 

He didn't want to tell anybody about the baby he carried, but George... George was the father, of course. He deserved to know the truth. 

The door swung open in front of him, George staring at him in confusion with his glasses pushed up onto his forehead. He looked as if he'd just woken up, which he probably had, judging how much he slept. He squinted, looking long and hard, and then wordlessly stepped aside, gesturing for Dream to enter.

Dream immediately collapsed onto the nearest seat, letting out a heavy sigh. "Hey."

"Why're you here?"

"We need to talk."

George sucked in a breath, a familiar tension settling in the room. This conversation was flirting with death, teetering on the edge of becoming a shouting match or an absolute panicked breakdown. This would not go well, no matter what.

_Maybe if I was able to communicate my thoughts more easily, it would be better, a lot better._

"About what? We figured everything out, there's nothing else to say." So blunt, wasn't that what he both loved and hated about this man? And fuck, did they have issues. 

"No offense, but we did not figure everything out. We said we were still friends, but there's so much _more_ past that. I hate these conversations because they absolutely suck, and I guess that's why we avoided it. And it's fucked everything up now, hasn't it?" Dream's head sunk into his hands, feeling like he was drowning. "We should have talked about... about the consequences of what we did. Of what else could come from it that's more tangible than just a tattered friendship."

"What do you mean?" George asked dumbly. There was a hint of dread in his voice, as if it was dawning on him but he was just hoping he wasn't understanding Dream's vagueness. 

"I was in heat. We had sex. You said it didn't mean anything to you, but it _should._ I was in heat because I'm an omega. What do I have that other people don't, what do I have that we both just _forgot_ about out of instinct?"

"What?" His voice wavered; they both knew the answer, but of course George was making him say it.

"I have a womb and ovaries, and no matter how much I despise them, they're there."

"So you're saying that...? Do you think you're..."

"I don't _think,_ I _know._ I'm pregnant. Fuck, that sounds insane."

"Really? Like, you--"

" _Yes, I fucking know!"_ Dream flinched at the sound of his own voice, so bitter and full of an anger repressed for many years, fermented into the sourest wine. The vitriol in his words were only a reminder of how ruined he was, of how little control he truly held over his emotions. Sharp, jagged knives of trauma and pain, dealt with too late to ever pry out of his damaged, blackened soul. 

"Fuck, I didn't want to yell, I didn't want any of this at all, really, I'm sorry. That's the most half-assed apology, I know, don't mention it."

"I just can't believe it, I can't... you're my best friend, this isn't supposed to happen, you can't be having--having my _kid."_

"It wasn't supposed to happen, huh?" He chuckled sadly, getting to his feet to pace back and forth across the dusty wooden floor. "Maybe we could've worked this out sooner, before I got to the point where I'm puking my guts out every morning, but both of us fucked up big time. This is the consequence for being stupid." Dream gestured vaguely at his abdomen, causing George to stiffen, jaw tight and muscles coiled with tension that had nowhere to go. He huffed audibly, jabbing his sword into the floor; he wasn't aiming it at him, so he had to be thankful for that, at least.

"This is... wow, we fucked up. We really did." George laughed as well, a bark with no humor and dripping with despair. 

"Neither of us are equipped for this, neither of us know what we're doing, _hell,_ I could die during this. I don't want our accidental... love child or whatever this is to put me in the grave, but it very well might."

"Do you love me, Dream?" George blurted, shocking them both. Dream froze, turning to him as his blood turned to ice.

_Is there a right answer? Does George want my love, my love that I can't give to him in the right way?_

Because he did love George, but he didn't know how. He couldn't sort it out, the mess of emotions that overcame him when he spoke to him, biology mixing with rationality. He didn't know if the romance was real. He didn't know if it felt right at all.

"Yes. Yes and no. I can't give you any sort of answer you're going to be satisfied with, so take that. Get back to me on that in a few years, probably."

"That's better than I could have hoped for."

Silence. The tension was gone, replaced with an unspeakable, unnamable heaviness. The truth was out, the future was uncertain. The only way was forward.

That was one good thing he'd been able to tell himself, for so many years. Maybe it wasn't always for the right reasons, but at least he'd continued to live and breathe. 

_Deep breath in, deep breath out, remind yourself that you're alive, and move on._

"Well, this whole situation sucks, but we can't do anything else about it. Let's make this work, I guess."

"How? Nobody we know knows a thing about kids, especially not us."

"We'll just have to figure it out, because we're going to have one to deal with in less than nine months."

"Can't you... get rid of it?"

"If I could terminate the pregnancy, believe me, I would. There's no safe way to do it now, though, and I'm not going to risk my life by shoving something capable of killing it up in there. I'd rather be stuck with a baby than fucking die. Don't tell me to try, because in the end, this is my body doing this, and I'm not going to just do everything for you."

"... You're right. I can't expect you to do something like that, it would... it would hurt a lot. I don't want you to hurt more for me, I'm not worth it."

"Thank you for that, at least. I'm not going to pretend like I'm not angry, angry at you and myself, but I do appreciate it."

Once again, they were quiet. It was nearly unbearable, and Dream was seconds away from excusing himself, when George spoke suddenly.

"Is it weird? To know that there's a human inside of you?"

The question startled him, but he answered despite it, tone muted. "Yeah, it really is. I don't know what the fuck I'm doing, but my body does. It hasn't even really registered in my mind yet. I don't know if it ever fully will."

"... I'm sorry. It doesn't change a single thing, but I am. I... I did this to you, and I'll try to help you, if you want it."

"I don't know if I can accept your help right now, but I'm sure I'll be able to when I'm not so..." he sighed again, too tired to elaborate. Life was confusing and he wasn't quite sure what to do with himself anymore. "I'm going to go now, I can't think straight."

"Thanks for telling me. I'll see you later." George's tone was just as muted, his shoulders slumped as he practically collapsed onto the couch, taking Dream's place. Dream couldn't even force out a goodbye, all he could do was leave the house in complete silence, fleeing back to the security of his own home. 

God, everything was awful. He needed to talk to somebody so badly, but fuck, that conversation with George had been the most draining thing, only filling him up with more pain and conflicting thoughts instead of purging them. Could he talk to Sapnap? Maybe, but he'd already dumped so much shit onto him that he'd feel guilty telling him about more. Techno? Absolutely not. Neither of them were much for emotions, and now that Dream had betrayed him after saving him from execution, their relationship was strained. 

So did he really trust anybody enough?

_No. No, I don't._

So far, he wasn't completely pushed over the edge, but that got him close to it. He really didn't have many allies or deep connections, he simply _was._ The realization hurt, and it was _warranted._ Now, in his moment of weakness, he was paying for every horrid thing he'd ever done, the bloodshed and the battles that made the water run red, the burns and scars, the tears that flowed and flowed deep into the night. And maybe the worst part of all, the thing that made him fall onto his bed the second he got home and sob like a scared child, was the fact that he deserved it.

This was for the emptiness in Tommy's voice, muttering that it wasn't his time to die as he stared in the lava before him. This was for Tubbo, hiding his grimace and the welling in his eyes as he exiled his closest friend. This was for Ranboo and the fear flashing in his eyes as Dream brought down the axe, nearly killing a man already riddled with arrow wounds. This was for Quackity, screeching as he covered his ruined face, blood gushing from the flesh Techno's pickaxe had so brutally mauled, and an injury that never would have happened had Dream not given him the gift of a second life.

No matter how much it stung, he deserved it.

_I brought this upon myself. I get no mercy for showing none._

He fell asleep with tears still drying on his cheeks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ah, it's only the beginning. welcome to hell. i didn't edit this, so pardon any spelling mistakes. i'll look through it at some point (probably).


	8. act II, scene III

When he woke up, he got sick again. He barely even cared, almost too weak to clean up the mess. Spots danced in his vision as his head throbbed, both a reminder that he hadn't eaten in almost twenty four hours. He had never undressed from the previous night, his whole body aching from where the metal of his armor had jabbed into his muscles; at least he didn't have to get dressed, he wasn't sure if he'd have the strength to do so without fainting.

He sat down in front of his range of chests, catching his breath and letting himself wake up more. Mind still foggy, he foraged for food, not hungry but knowing he had to eat _something._ Was it paternal instinct, or simply his desire to preserve his own life? He didn't know, deciding to focus on choking down bread and a regeneration potion.

He felt the slightest bit better after getting something in his system, and got to his feet with much more ease. The potion was definitely helping, at least. Now able to focus on less essential things, he chose to go bathe in a nearby pond, feeling gross enough to put in the effort. The water was cold, but refreshing enough, washing away nearly a week's worth of dirt and grime; he put his clothes next to him to let them soak, not wanting to have the noticeable vomit stains on his hoodie anymore or the blots of blood in his pants.

He didn't know much about pregnancy, and he didn't know if the bleeding was normal. Was it going to hurt him? Once again, he chose not to think about it, instead taking in the scenery of the woods and scrubbing himself as well as he could. He hadn't taken his mask off in hours, and it was a huge relief to have it off and be able to rinse his eyes and the multiple small cuts across his face. 

After drying himself off and wringing out his clothes, he felt much better, and was able to approach the day with some sense of optimism. He was able to eat some more food, the nausea dispersed by the shock of the cool water; having a full stomach was a great way to raise one's spirits, it seemed.

However, his good mood was unfortunately quite easy to shatter. And shattered it was, as he went to L'Manberg, only to find that the many raised pathways and homes were empty. From his vantage point he could see that everybody was crowded in the town center, hushed voices carrying in the wind. He smelled smoke, and followed the scent.

When he approached, the quiet murmuring completely died down, and the citizens of L'Manberg all turned to him. His question died on his tongue as he took in the scene, shock stabbing through him.

Tattered and smoldering, the once-proud flag of the Dream SMP lay on the ground in front of the L'Manberg laws. Graffiti covered all nearby signs and walls, shocking and cruel. 

_Dream is the problem._

_Dream is going to betray you._

_Why do you trust him now?_

_Dream wants you all dead. It's over._

"... No." He whispered, feelings like his legs were going to give out. 

"Dream, we..." Tubbo stepped forward, words dying the second they left his mouth. 

"None of us think you're going to turn around and kill us, of course!" Quackity said, much too loud. The crowd shifted in discomfort, and it was very clear that everybody thought he was.

Of course he was hurt, but he was too used to it to really care. The grimaces and glares were familiar. He took a deep breath, and spoke, trying to keep his voice from shaking. 

"I'm not going to stand here and pretend as if this wasn't warranted. I... I did a lot to you. All of you. I understand the distrust, the hatred... all of it. But all I want is for this to not be held against me. Hold whatever grudges you wish, but please understand that I'm _trying._ It may seem like a sudden change of heart--and it was--but I want to get better. I want to be able to call you friends again, no matter how long that may take."

His words seemed to resonate somewhat with the people before him, the harsh stares turning a bit softer; there was pity, he knew, but he would take it over anything else. 

"Y'know, Dream hasn't been the best in the past, but he really is trying his best. He's helped me so much with all of the politics and stuff here, and I think we should give him more credit. He's working to become a better person now. I respect that." Tubbo was much more confident than he was, stepping out of the crowd with a strong tone and fire in his eyes. The amount of passion he had was respectable, and an admirable attribute in a leader, truly making him the best president L'Manberg had ever had.

Did he feel some sense of envy? Of course he did, all he wanted was to be loved. To approach life with optimism, filled with joy and boundless positivity. To be surrounded with kindness. To have people listen to him because they _wanted_ to, not because it would cost them their life if they didn't.

"Yeah, for real!" Quackity said, "Like, it was obvious he was really going through some shit before, and if he's doing better than that now, we should support him, right? I think you're a pretty neat dude, and as long as you work for what all of us want, I'll stick with you. Whoever did this is just pissed that L'Manberg is stronger than ever, eh?"

_'Whoever did this is just pissed that L'Manberg is stronger than ever'... Who hates L'Manberg here? Who hates a strong government--who hates government in general?_

_Oh shit._

"Technoblade," he blurted, mouth moving before he could stop it. The realization had slammed into him like a truck, and the shock of knowing who he was up against was great. _Fuck,_ this could end up poorly. 

"What about him?"

"He did this, didn't he?"

Dead silence followed; one could have heard a pin drop. 

"It can't actually be him? It can't... it can't fucking be him." Quackity's face darkened, voice shifting to something rough and dangerous. He was rarely serious, and even more rarely was he genuinely _scary,_ but with words sharp enough to break skin and a bold, still-healing scar slithering down his cheek, his presence was enough to send a chill through the crowd.

"No, he's right. It could only be him, he's the only person who is against this sort of progress." Eret looked just as severe, and his glowing eyes looked much more sinister when his brow was twisted downwards. "The flag is burnt. The flag must symbolize the government, the government that he wants to raze."

"Godamnit, he's done this _too many fucking times!_ Every single time we've almost got something good, or we've almost got this _monster_ in our fucking grasp, he manages to ruin it! I swore I was going to kill him before, but I _mean_ it now. He almost killed me with a _pickaxe,_ I can't rest until I've gotten my revenge for this. God, he's _over._ He's _over._ I was going to play a political game, but not anymore. I'm going to slit his _throat."_

"Big Q, you..." Tommy reached out, touching his shoulder, and Quackity flinched, whole body tensing as he whipped around to snarl an indistinct warning at him.

"Nothing you can say is going to convince me otherwise. I'm getting revenge, damnit. He's destroyed my pride and my face and my life so many times, I'm not letting him get away with it again! He's not taking this alliance from us, he's not taking my friends and home. He's the worst threat to our nation now, and with Dream on our side, it'll be a piece of fucking cake to get rid of him. So here's the plan: we don't wait around for shit to happen, we bring the shit to him again, this time with extra firepower. A week from now, I expect to see every single one of you marching up to his doorstep. It ends _here."_

And with that, Quackity stormed away, seething.

"Well... holy shit," Tommy muttered.

"No, he's right. We attack in a week."

All it took was Tubbo's word. It was on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i am posting this right before i have to go get my surgery done. not sure when the next chapter will be out, but i have most of it written already, so we'll see if i'm up for it tomorrow. well, enjoy, and comments and kudos are always appreciated.


	9. act II, scene IV

He said to himself that he wouldn't dump it all on Sapnap. So how then had he ended up seated on the shore with him, sand clinging to his thighs? The words poured out on their own volition, as he explained the dilemma he was in, the culmination of so many separate factors. 

"There was the flag, and it was burnt... Techno burnt the flag and... nobody trusts me anymore, it wasn't like they trusted me before, but..." Dream stumbled over his words, unable to fully compose himself to make a sensical sentence. Sapnap nodded sagely, somehow understanding his garbled, tear-soaked explanation. 

"That... that really sucks. I know you're trying to get better, and I think that everybody should respect that, and give you room to grow and change. I don't think that Techno or whoever did this should work to undermine something that's like... connected to your whole mental state. You're in a rough spot, doing this to you is just fucked up."

"But what if I deserve it? Isn't this just payback for... for everything?"

"Listen, I think karma is bullshit. Good things happen to bad people, and bad things happen to good people. There isn't some sort of godly power looking out for us and making sure the world turns 'round, there's just _life._ So this isn't payback or anything, there's nothing causing this run of bad luck. You're working to better yourself and things are going wrong, that's all there is to it. The past is in the past as long as you make sure you've distanced yourself from who you used to be."

"It's going so wrong, Sapnap, it's so... it's so, so bad. It hurts--" Dream's voice broke, and he buried his head in his best friend's shoulder and he sobbed, choking on his own tears. He'd forgone wearing his mask, and the fabric of his shirt was rough against the lids of his eyes, a comfort all the same.

"It's just one thing, it's going to be okay."

"No, it's--it's not just this, there's... there's something else. Something else really bad that I don't know what to do about."

"Do you want to tell me?"

All Dream could do was nod mutely and cling onto him tighter, trying to compose himself enough to speak. He wasn't sure how long it took, but as Sapnap rubbed his back to the rhythm of the waves lapping against the shore, he was able to catch his breath. The drying tears were sticky on his cheeks, and he pulled away to wipe them off, sighing shakily.

"I don't know exactly how it happened--well, I kind of do, I guess, since I'm an omega and all, but I... I got pregnant, Sapnap. I'm going to have a baby and I really don't want to. I'm scared and I can't do this--" He almost broke down again, but managed to fight back the tears. Sapnap remained calm, looking out to the vast expanse of the ocean with a contemplative gaze, deep in thought. It took him what felt like hours to answer, but finally, he spoke.

"I think that, in any other situation, I'd probably be freaking out right now. But this isn't about me, and I need to focus on you. You're really scared, you're alone, and you've got this... _thing_ to deal with. A baby is a lot. It's really a lot, and none of us know how to handle it. It's going to be okay, though. We're going to get through this one step at a time, and I'm going to be here to help you figure it out. I'm not going to leave, I'm always going to be your friend, no matter what."

"What if I do a bad job, though? I don't want it to live like I did, I don't want it so I'm going to do the same things, right?"

"You're going to do better than whatever shitbag raised you. You're going to do better than that because you're a good person. Bad people don't worry about doing the right thing, remember?"

Sapnap paused for another stretch. Dream let his fingers dig into the soft, warm sand around him, grounding himself. He was here. Sapnap was there. It was going to be okay, just like he said.

"Do you want to talk about it, though? About what happened to you back when you were a kid?"

Any other time, he would have adamantly refused. Now, however, he took a deep breath, gathering his thoughts, and then spoke. The memory of his fucked-up childhood had weighed on him for much too long, and damnit, he needed it off his chest.

"I don't remember most of it. I guess it's sort of a coping mechanism, but yeah, I don't really know what happened. I know that my mom abandoned me, though. She didn't want me, and she didn't want to try to raise me. I wasn't on my own forever, though, or I would have died. I don't know who took care of me; maybe it was my mom and it was so bad that I blocked it out of my mind." Recounting his life was difficult, and the second Dream stopped, he knew he'd break down again. So, he forged ahead, pushing past the lump in his throat. "I don't know how I'd remember her abandoning me right when I was born, and I get these... these dreams that might be memories of her, where she... I don't know, she doesn't take care of me right. She tells me I'm a fuck-up, a monster, and I believe her every time. I believed her for so long."

"I'm... I'm sorry. I know that really doesn't cut it, but I'm so, so sorry that happened to you. I can't imagine it."

"I can't really imagine it either, but it happened. I think... I think she told me I was wrong and evil until I became wrong and evil. I was a hybrid too, it wasn't like it was hard to make me believe it. The other hybrids were like... half slime or half parrot, and then I was half _whatever this is_ with the weird eyes and the superhuman strength. My mom made me into a monster, I guess. Or maybe she didn't and somebody else did, I really don't know what happened. I just wish I could remember, but maybe it's for the best that I don't. I think there's a reason I forgot."

"... Sometimes it's so bad that your brain just can't process it. You were a little kid, of course you couldn't. Man, that's fucked. Really fucked."

"I don't know, I just... became Dream after that. I bought into it and became that monster. I hurt people, I killed people, I did harm because I thought that was who I was supposed to be. I saw a lot of shit that I don't like to think about, but that haunts me. I watched people kill themselves, I saw so, so much blood, half-dead bodies lying in ditches that cried out for me to help, but I just kept walking. The world is filled with horrors, and I went looking for them, for whatever reason. But then, you found me. You found me, and the rest is history."

"I'm really glad I did, man. Your mom is a piece of shit, I understand why you don't want the same thing for your own kid that you're going to have. But even though you don't want it, the difference between you and your mom is the fact that you're a good person. Me and you are going to work together and make sure that the same shit doesn't happen, okay? It's going to be alright, man, we're going to make sure that everything is okay."

"You'll help me?"

"Of course! What kind of friend would I be if I didn't? Who cares if it's a whole-ass baby I'm helping you with; we've literally fought in wars together, it can't be any worse."

"You've done so much for me already, though, and what do I give you back? I just dump my baggage on you and put you through everything. I don't... I don't understand why you're still here. I never understood why you tried to help me in the first place." Voicing those thoughts almost brought him to tears again, as he considered every conversation just like this one. He clenched the sand underneath him in tense fists, desperate to force them back. He was sick of crying.

"Well, you're funny, and smart, and pretty damn cool. That's all I care about man, that's all I care about now. Don't bother with the whole "but what about--" thing that I know you're going to pull on me, because I don't want to go in circles. I'm here for you because I want to be, okay? My purpose in life is helping people, I'd like to think. I don't know what I'd do if it weren't for my friends."

"... You told me not to make any excuses, but this isn't an excuse. I just... I think I really messed things up. Sapnap, it's always been you and me, but there's also George. I fucked things up with him, and I don't know how we're all going to be friends again. I don't know how we're supposed to be a team when I'm just..."

"When you're what?"

"When I'm having his goddamned baby," Dream spit out, still hating the way the words felt on his tongue. 

This time, Sapnap looked shocked. Out of the corner of his eye, Dream could see him staring at him, mouth slightly agape, but he felt too awkward to actually make eye contact, choosing to look out to the horizon, past the slow, rhythmic lapping of the water. 

"O-Okay, that's... that's a bit of a surprise. You two never seemed like... like that's what you ever wanted to do with each other."

"You're right, neither of us wanted it to happen. It was all an accident, one big, awful, life-changing accident. I went into heat and he found me; I don't want to elaborate any further than that, but that's all you need to know."

"... Did he hurt you?"

"No. He helped me with my heat, and we both forgot the consequences in the moment. I told him about the pregnancy a few days ago, and he was civil about it. If anything, I was more upset than he was, but that's just how he seems to approach everything in life."

"Are you okay with being around him? Do you want me to leave him alone also? I just don't want to make you uncomfortable, you're the one suffering the most out of the two of you and I'd rather keep your wishes in mind."

"I'm pissed right now... But not really at him, completely. I'm just mad about everything and he happens to be involved, I guess. You can do whatever you want with him, though."

"Alright, that's okay, as long as you're okay with it. I just want to respect your boundaries, man. You're going through so much right now and I don't wanna make it worse, yeah? But now that we're done with this, I don't know how much I'm going to be able to keep it together, so I'm going to... go I guess. Not sure how I stayed composed this long, but I need to cry or scream or something, and you don't deserve to hear that." Sapnap immediately got to his feet, turning to leave, and Dream reached out, breath catching in his throat. The sun beat down on the two of them, both momentarily still; god rays nearly blinded them both, but they held each other's gazes, lost in the beauty of the moment and the memory of so many years of friendship, washing over like the waves. 

_If I ever were to fall in love, I think it would be with you._

"Thank you."

"Is that all? His headband fluttered in the breeze, heavy with the ocean's salt. 

_This isn't infatuation, but I can't lose this rapture._

"I just needed to say it. Say that, and that I love you. You can't forget, promise you won't forget."

"And how exactly do you love me? What am I to you?"

"You're the person who saved me. You're the person that has kept me here. I hate that love always seems to mean shoving tongues into mouths and sex, I wish it could just mean this. I wish more people cared enough for it to just mean this. _This_ is human."

Sapnap chuckled, but his eyes shone with wetness. "Don't get all philosophical on me now, you idiot. I'll be here tomorrow, and you can tell me everything you want, but I have to go before I start bawling like a little kid. See ya."

And with that, he was gone, leaving only footprints in his wake. Dream's voice was caught in his throat, a farewell slipping out when it was far too late.

"Goodbye, friend."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a quick detour from plot for some much-needed conversation. i like writing dialogue, what can i say? but act two is almost over, which means it's time for me to dust off the ol' action scene writing skills for the third one. every single plot thread is before me, and it's time to weave a story. 
> 
> i'm pretty loopy from pain meds, so we'll see how writing the next chapter goes today. may not get it out until monday, but hey, we'll see. kudos and comments are appreciated, as always.


	10. act II, scene V

Dream had been left out of all activities in L'Manberg for quite some time, so suddenly being put in charge of training its ragtag army was strange. He didn't quite know why they trusted him to do it, but with only a few days left until their planned attack on Techno, he understood why they'd done it. He felt no shame admitting that he was a masterful warrior; he'd been training his whole life, it was only natural that he'd have skill.

But no matter how much skill he had, it was rather... _difficult_ to train these people. While spending time acting as a mentor was a good way to keep his mind off of his current predicament, it wasn't an easy job, and his constant exhaustion coupled with their lack of abilities made it almost infuriating at times.

It was ten in the morning, and Quackity had already almost cut his arm off with his sword multiple times, Tommy's shirt had been sliced into a crop top, Tubbo had twisted his ankle while attempting a lunge, and Fundy had broken his blade's hilt in half. The only person who was doing reasonably well was Ranboo, his towering height giving him a great advantage when fighting. He was having difficulty utilizing it at the moment, but with a bit more work, Dream knew he'd be a formidable warrior. 

"Quackity, always keep your blade raised! If I were fighting you, I'd already have disemboweled you," Dream snapped, and he immediately flicked his point off of the wood floor.

"Nobody can move that fast, dumbass, I'd have my sword up before then," Quackity growled, but got back into position. Dream could, in fact, move that fast, but he refrained from mentioning it, not wanting to demoralize the other. Showing off only lowered their spirits; Technoblade was better than Dream, and if they saw that they weren't even half as good as him, they'd completely give up on ever being able to defeat their enemy.

"Lunge! En garde. Lunge! En garde. Lunge! Fundy, your stance is too wide, you're going to fall over. Good, Tommy, you're keeping your balance. Ranboo, you're reaching too far, you're going to fall over as well. En garde." Dream paced back and forth, mentally tuning out as he repeated the same footwork exercises. In practice, a perfect stance would bring you nothing, but without the fundamentals, there was no way any of them would be able to carry their weight in battle. Bladework was built on this, and bladework was what really mattered. 

At the current moment, they were getting close to finally being able to learn how to properly wield their weapons of choice, and that was a good thing. The sun beat down relentlessly, exhausting all of them; Dream needed to move on quickly before somebody--or he--passed out. 

"Hey Dream," Tubbo huffed, "can we take a break or move on? I think we all know how to do this."

Tubbo was a bit of a mind reader, it seemed. Dream welcomed the question with open arms.

"We can start on bladework now. We'll go back to this later, though, don't grin like that, Quackity."

"Augh, come on! This shit is _boring,"_ he drawled, letting his sword droop once again. He'd been complaining since they'd started hours earlier, and at that point, something in Dream fractured. In a flash, he leapt forward, beating aside Quackity's poor attempt at a parry, and had the point of his blade hovering at his throat in another instant. Dead silence fell over the group, as Dream stared deep into his eyes, watching him squirm. Yes, he didn't want to demoralize them, but a friendly reminder of what they were up against seemed to be in order.

"This shit may be boring, but it's important. Techno is not going to hold back like this, he'd have cut your jugular in the same amount of time." Dream retracted his arm, getting back into a standing position and sucking in a breath, trying to act like that hadn't taken as much energy as it did out of him. "I'm not fully human, and neither is he. If you can't block my blade, you can't block his either."

"I... Yeah, you're--you're right." Quackity gulped, looking three shades paler than he had before. His hand trembled on his grip.

"Shit, are hybrids really capable of that?" Tommy asked, obviously awed. It barely even registered that he'd just outed himself as a hybrid out loud, but at that point, with his display of strength, it was obvious. Sapnap had been right: people didn't really care, not around here.

"Depends on what type, but yes, we are indeed. Ranboo could do this with a few more years of training, for instance."

"I could? Jeez..." Ranboo looked down at his discolored hands, looking both thrilled and terrified at the prospect. "What type of hybrid are you, then? You must be totally crazy to be able to move so fast."

Revealing his demonic nature was slightly more daunting--hell, it was much more, he'd literally been wearing a mask half his life to hide it, but if he was going to try to approach life with an open mind, it was necessary.

_Bad's a demon too, and he's like the nicest guy here. You can absolutely be nice, you just won't admit it to yourself that you're completely, and I mean completely in control of your actions._

"I'm half demon. It's quite rare, but sometimes, it does happen. I'm... I'm like Bad, but watered down."

"Bad, but watered down," Tubbo echoed, thoughtful. 

"Do you look like a demon under your mask? Like, weird eyes and fangs and all that cool shit?" Tommy asked, stepping forward and giving him a thorough once-over. 

"I do indeed. I'd rather not show it, though, it's rather... unsettling. And we've got training to do, so let's stop talking about me and pair up to do assaults. Quackity and Fundy, Tubbo and Tommy, and Ranboo, you're with me."

Thankfully, everybody accepted the subject change, and an equally-frustrating session of blade training ensued. Ranboo was a fine opponent, and gentle enough to be manageable even while Dream was pregnant and quickly becoming slightly nauseous, but everybody else was what could only be described as a mess. 

Quackity certainly was not helping with the nausea situation, as he successfully managed to get his arm chopped clean off and needed enough healing potions to tranquilize a hoglin to get it back on and functioning. Dream had to briefly excuse himself to be sick in a bush, and Tommy was not able to excuse himself quick enough to avoid throwing up on Tubbo's shoes. 

"Hey, blame Big Q for fucking up his parry thingy and letting Fundy do that!"

"Hey, I'm still learning! Don't be mean to me, my fuckin' arm was almost gone forever!"

"I don't care, dumbass!"

It wasn't going fantastically, but knowing them, things could be much, much worse. Nobody had died yet, at least, and unlike a disembodied arm, that could not be fixed so easily. Even demons couldn't raise people from the dead, and while Ghostbur had been lucky enough to stick around as a spirit, others weren't able to do the same. Even so, a ghostly Quackity would be a nightmare.

Thankfully, the rest of the session happened to go without a hitch, and even with all of the mishaps, everybody seemed to have made progress. Tomorrow, they would train again, and Dream made a mental note as he was packing up his items to bring wooden weapons. He'd grossly underestimated how prone the citizens of L'Manberg were to injuring themselves, and they certainly needed something that wouldn't get them actually killed. 

Just as he was leaving the borders, he felt a tap on his shoulder, and whipped around, finding Ranboo standing nervously behind him. "O-Oh, sorry if I disturbed you, I just..."

"No, don't worry about it, I'm always wound up after training. Do you need something?"

"I just wanted to ask you a question... a question about being a hybrid. That's all."

"Go ahead. I'm listening."

"Uh, well, you said that we're supposed to be really strong and all that, but I just... I don't want to be that. I _can't_ be that, I don't want to hurt people."

"Well, as long as you remember who your friends are, you won't hurt them, right?"

"And that's the problem! I forgot all the time, I can never remember who's who and what's what sometimes, I just _forget._ I don't know why my memory is so bad; it's so scary, Dream. It's scary to think that all of this could just... be gone one day and I wouldn't even know it. I can't lose this--I don't know what happened to me in my past, back before I came here, but it wasn't good. Is this what it means to be a hybrid? Does every hybrid have these kinds of problems or is it just me?" Ranboo looked to be on the verge of tears, voice quickly becoming frantic and breathy. He seemed to shrink in on himself, arms held close to his trembling frame, holding onto the fabric of his suit jacket. 

Dream recognized that fear, he _knew_ it.

_Does every hybrid have these kinds of problems or is it just me?_

He thought of all the times he saw people cry and couldn't understand why. He thought of the confusion as he tried to sort through his emotions, unable to understand the difference between anger and joy, as if they were born from foreign material. He thought of the baby inside of him and the lack of anything he seemed to feel towards it, all care built on a desire to survive, not genuine love.

"It's not just you, Ranboo. It's not just you." His voice was husky, almost lost to the wind as a memory of his own swamped him; Ranboo was always cursed to forget, and here he was, forced to recall every single piece, no matter how painful.

_"Why don't you ever say you love me?" Her voice was harsh, not soft like he expected. His mother was supposed to care for him, so why was she so angry? Was she even angry? He knew the different words for the emotions, but he wasn't quite sure what tone went with which word. Was love strong, biting words and the feeling of a palm against his back? If so, he didn't want to tell his mama that he loved her, because he didn't want to hurt her._

_Why did she hurt him? What was he missing?_

_"I don't wanna hurt your feelings," he tried, and yelped at the smack he received; that was the wrong answer._

_"Hurt my feelings? I knew your father was a devil, I never shoulda done anything with him. All he did was make a little monster."_

_"Why am I a monster?" He wanted to cry, but he knew she wouldn't like that. She said something about "fakin' pity" when he did it last time that sounded nasty, so he decided that maybe he should keep the tears in. He wished somebody could teach him about all the different feelings, but mama wouldn't, and maybe he wouldn't know._

_"Because you're an emotionless shell of a little thing, all disrespectful 'n trying to ask me the dumbest 'a questions. 'What's sadness? What's happiness?', you know exactly what those are, you smarmy child. Stop tryin' to play me for a fool, okay, and I won't hit you anymore. Somebody's gotta teach you how to be an upstanding young fella."_

_He sat in his bed after that, thinking long and hard about what she'd said. He just didn't get it; he'd really meant those questions he'd asked, why was she acting like they were bad? He just wanted to know what went with which. He just wanted to know how to make his mama happy._

_He gripped the stained, ragged cotton and watched the water drip from his ugly eyes in front of him, and nobody in the world would tell him what it meant._

"Dream? Jeez, I'm sorry for asking you that, if it made you remember something bad I--" Ranboo's voice brought him back to the present, a welcome relief. 

"It's okay, don't worry about me. You know, I was like you for a while, wondering why I couldn't get the memories to surface. I asked myself why I'd forgotten, but once they finally came back, I realized that sometimes, forgetfulness is a blessing. Sometimes, it hurts more to remember.

"Being a hybrid means being half-human. There's half of you that's missing something everybody else seems to have. For you, it happens to be your memory. For me, it is something else."

It took so many people to teach him what words went with what, and which described the twisting, snarling beast of emotion in his stomach. Those people he would cherish, for they had given him a gift not even his mother had been able to give. 

"I... I see."

"I know you're scared, but you're going to figure this out. I have, and you can do the same."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> being in quarantine means that i don't get to fence anymore, but hey, now i get to utilize my knowledge of sword fighting in this fanfic. it doesn't often come in handy in regular life, strangely enough. i wonder why. as a society, i think we should normalize dueling our enemies in the streets. 
> 
> well, i've taken a lot of pain meds, if that end note doesn't already show that. i'm going to go sleep for twelve hours and wonder why i put three different tropes in this fic that i made equally important. how do you combine them all into one cohesive story!? it's at this point that i wish i wrote a better plot outline. well, hope you enjoyed, and kudos and comments are appreciated, as always.


	11. act II, scene VI

It was time.

The wilderness was frigid, biting wind forcing its way through every chink in Dream's armor and laying heavy in his very bones, and yet, he wasn't cold, body thrumming with adrenaline. Now was not the time not falter, not when they were approaching a situation with perhaps the most dire consequence for failure; death. 

Normally, he'd spend time taking in his surroundings; out in the tundra and rolling spruce forests, it truly was beautiful, and especially now, with snow coming down in light swaths, but he had a hard time enjoying it. They were going to find Techno, and if all went well, he would finally be taken captive. Dream couldn't help but feel slightly bad about what he was doing, despite the lengths he had gone, and he had to once again remind himself that what he was doing was for the good of the people. Before, anarchy benefitted the server, since Dream's constant attacks and antagonism towards L'Manberg had led to much more pain than necessary, but now, with the two fronts united for the first time, there was a better life to be had under democracy. 

Techno was hindering their progress, past alliances no longer meant a thing. An alliance was truly only useful when both people benefitted, after all, and Dream had something else to benefit him.

"How much farther do we have to go?" Quackity muttered, briefly dragging his feet in the snow. Thankfully, Dream had been able to snag himself a horse to ride, keeping him out of the same predicament; he felt bad for those who had to walk.

"It's not much longer now," Ranboo murmured, "I recognize the scenery here, kind of..."

"I wish I didn't recognize it, I got fucked up here." While Quackity was usually a very light-hearted and optimistic man, usually choosing not to take things very seriously, his entire demeanor changed when it came to Techno. He despised him more than anything or anyone else, and wanted him dead with such vicious passion. At this point, he was risking life and limb for it; on the training days leading up to their attack, Dream had come to L'Manberg only to find Quackity already there, running through footwork practice with sweat dripping down his forehead. His initial reservations had faded, turning into a fearsome determination, and even now, his eyes held a fire that contrasted with his complaints; the jagged, ghastly scar down the side of his face only added to the look.

Nobody spoke after that, the memory of the day of Techno's attempted execution weighing heavy on all of their minds. The faint stirrings of guilt and regret emerged from Dream's subconscious, reminding him of everything he could have done differently, and everything he could have stopped. Had he not allowed Techno to get his hands on the totem, none of them would be here now, risking their lives in an attempt to reclaim peace. 

Were others blaming him now, in the silence? Were others reeling at the pounding of their heartbeats in their chests, their hands shaking as they held weapons they had only just learned to yield? Where did they wish to find themselves instead of in this moment?

Too many questions, and not enough time to answer them; the tree line was quickly thinning, opening up into the vast plains which Techno's cabin sat squarely in the middle of. While being so visible seemed foolish, it was actually the opposite, since it meant he could see invaders coming from a mile away. So far, they were still in the cover of the woods, and Dream slid off his horse, crouching in the snow in one fluid, graceful movement, moving to get a better vantage point. Smoke wafted from the chimney, although it was uncertain if he was actually home or not. He could be out doing anything. He could be preparing for battle himself. Hell, he could be sleeping, although he didn't do that much, as far as Dream knew. 

Not knowing was what made it scary. Sheer determination and a desire to fix what he had wrought forced his legs to slowly move, creeping out of the shelter of the brush and into the open, undisturbed expanse of snow. His green hoodie, once camouflaged, now made him stand out like a beacon. 

Each crunch beneath his feet was excruciating, each footstep tearing away another scrap of sanity. He gathered strength in his burning thighs and prepared, with each breath, to explode forward should the need arise. 

All was perfectly, nature itself falling silent in anticipation as Dream paused briefly. And then it came, the slightest and most nondescript creak of wood.

Now was the time for acceptance.

_"Do you ever think about what's going to happen when you die?" Sapnap did not usually ask such open-ended questions, but as they sat around the cheerfully-crackling campfire and cleaned their weapons, they had little else to talk about. Dream paused, letting the cloth slip to the ground as he set down his crossbow._

_"... I don't think about what comes after, but I guess I think about what it might be like a lot. The usual stuff, I guess. Like, would it hurt? What would kill me? What would be the last thing I ever said, or ever thought?"_

_"How many times do you think you've gotten close to it?"_

_"To death? Well, I'm only a teen, it's not like I've lived that long."_

_"I mean, you're you. You went through a lot before I met you, and we still do a lot of fighting. Has there ever been a moment where you just kind of... accepted the fact that it was over? And then it wasn't?"_

_"What's up with you today, you're being weird..." Dream muttered, picking his weapon back up, but not completely rejecting the question. It was a lot to consider, especially with a faulty memory, but he had. He truly had._

_"There was one time, I think. It was raining a lot, and I was so, so cold and I couldn't find my way home. There was somebody on a ledge, they looked at me and they told me something that I sometimes still hear in my dreams. 'I don't mean anything in the end, I'm only speeding up the process. We're all going to be in the dirt soon'. That's what they said. And then they jumped, they died... I was a sad, sad little kid, and so, I climbed up to where they were, looked down at their body, and I almost did the same thing. I almost fell. I accepted it, the fact that death was so easily in reach. For some reason, I got back down, and I kept searching for my home. I still don't know why. There's always been a part of me that can't let itself die, I guess. There's always been a part of me that doesn't want to see itself forgotten."_

_Sapnap didn't answer, but Dream could see the tears dripping down his cheeks; that said more than words could. It would have been so easy to jump, to not be present in this moment, sitting by the fire and his best friend, and both of them knew it._

_It would have been so easy to let go._

Dream fell to the side as the crossbow bolt shot by his ear, quickly rolling and getting to his feet to figure out where it had come from. One of Techno's windows was open, and he caught a flash of gold out of the corner of his eye, right before breaking out into a dead sprint towards the cabin. Footsteps thundered behind him, alerting him that everybody else was charging in; fuck, it wasn't fast enough, they needed to overwhelm Techno before he had a chance to gather his wits and supplies. The bolt that he had fired had not been a firework one, which meant that he wasn't prepared in full for an attack. The window was slim, but present nonetheless.

His body rebelled against the exertion, screaming at him to slow down lest he hurt his child, but he ignored it, tearing up the stairs to the porch and burying his axe up to the handle in the door. He heard the sound of chests opening inside, along with the cracking of glass, and redoubled his efforts, desperate to get in and start fighting before his opponent could get a hold of too many potions or weapons. He was dimly aware of the rest of the small army moving into position around the cabin, drawing their weapons and guarding each exit, but his full focus went into the last blow, a blow that sent the door flying into the home.

Techno was ready, of course. His next strike, made with his hastily-drawn sword, was parried easily with a familiar, gilded blade, and with that, the battle began.

"So you've finally decided to show yourself, eh?" Techno huffed, a toothy grin on his face as he lunged, point aimed directly at the gap between Dream's breastplate and plackart. Dream hurriedly counterattacked, a stupid move, but one that forced Techno to reel back and getting him off-balance long enough for Dream to get into a more appropriate fighting stance.

"Well, I didn't appreciate your little stunt in L'Manberg that you pulled, so I thought I should come and remind you that there's consequences for your actions." The pair circled each other briefly, bouncing on the balls of their feet as they both assessed the situation. Techno had no glaring weak points, but there was a small area around his knee where his greaves met the rest of the armor on his legs that seemed damaged. If he got a quick hit on his wrist, he could switch lines to attack there, and bring him to the ground. 

Of course, Techno was assessing him as well, and he followed his eyes, watching to see if he narrowed in on any particular spot. Sword fighting was just as much a battle of smarts as it was one of physical strength, and both of them had a mind for the more strategic aspects of a battle.

"So you guessed that I did that, huh? Well you're right, here's a gold star for getting the correct answer." He made an engagement, briefly tapping Dream's blade, and Dream did the same, feeling the sheer strength behind his guard. Despite the seemingly-loose grip that he held his sword in, his defense seemed nearly impenetrable. With a quick glissade, Dream realized his blade seemed to have no place where it would give, and he retreated again, moving back to circle at a safe distance. 

_How much strength does a piglin hybrid possess? Fuck, I don't know if I can do this._

"Well, it's more than that. I want to know _why_ you did that. I'm no traitor, I don't want--" Techno beat his blade, and Dream quickly parried, "--to hurt them. I only want the best for them, since it also happens to be the best for me at the current moment."

"And that's where you're wrong. You _are_ a traitor." Techno's voice became a threatening growl, his light engagements becoming more aggressive. Asserting himself, Dream performed a fleche, charging forward only to be met with a sidestep, parry, and sharp riposte that clanged against the metal of his shoulder guard. Between rapid attacks and counters, he forced out the last of his sentence. "You sided-- with the-- government. You sided-- with everything I-- hate."

"I only realized that I was making a mistake! L'Manberg was a death trap before, but it was only because I opposed them. Together, we've made a better nation! People are happy, secure--"

"That's how it was in the beginning as well! Every time things seem peaceful, it always goes wrong, again and again. L'Manberg is _not_ a finished symphony, that ground is cursed, cursed to remain a battleground until the end of days!"

With a frustrated shout, Dream beat Techno's blade aside and quickly lowered his line of attack, aiming a clean slice at his knee. A startled shout of pain along with a gush of blood alerted him that he'd been successful in finally landing a hit. Techno attempted a counterattack, but missed, and Dream redoubled his lunge, aiming even lower, only to have his wrist wrenched painfully to the side as his miscalculated hit ended with his point jamming into the floor. He immediately gave up on trying to retrieve it, and pulled out his axe just in time to parry a flurry of attacks. 

The fight was quickly becoming exhausting, and Dream knew he didn't have much time until his body truly gave up on him. His line of defense slowly moved towards his abdomen as instinct took over, intent to protect winning instead of his intent to harm. In his lifetime, he had gotten impaled a number of times and had survived, but now, any sort of trauma to that area of his body would be fatal. If Techno noticed, however, he didn't mention it.

"I'll make it work this time, damnit. I'll protect L'Manberg this fucking time."

And suddenly, Techno stopped. He stopped, lowered his weapon, and stepped away. He chuckled strangely, and spoke. "Heh, you might be right. Maybe you'll do it this time, and I'm the wrong one. Y'know, government always seems to fail, which is why I value anarchy so highly. Chaos seems much more honorable to me than the illusion of control. Men are beasts, and we are so selfish that we cannot rule each other. But perhaps, things will work out this time. Perhaps the people of L'Manberg don't have so much greed that it will ruin their chances of living successfully. So here's what I propose: I'll give you a few months to run your experimental government, and then I'll come out of hiding to see how it's going. If it seems fine, I'll just leave you be. I crave blood, but I have enough kindness in my heart to take it from other people if need be. However, if you're in the same state of disarray that you've always been in, I'll completely destroy it. I have plenty of withers, it won't take more than an hour to raze every building and person. So, how does that sound?"

_I forgot how absolutely fucking terrifying Technoblade can be. Shit. There's really only one answer I can pick here._

"Sounds like a deal. As long as you keep your word, I'll keep mine."

"I'm an honorable piglin, I won't break a promise made with an opponent who has put up a fair fight. It's hard to find good allies, but even harder to find good rivals, after all."

"Alright, then. I'll take my men and leave, and you'll stay out of our land for three months."

"See you then." And with those ominous words, Techno threw down a splash potion, and vanished, leaving Dream to consider how badly he may have just fucked up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i am not one to make a shitty, mid-chapter time skip. if i'm skipping time, i'm doing it like this, with a whole chapter that took all day to write! yes, this was truly the best use of my time. 
> 
> regardless, it is now time to move forward with many things as the third act begins. and say it with me: kudos and comments are appreciated. i need some sort of motivation to keep up this breakneck writing pace, after all.


	12. act III, scene I

"Fuck."

The baby had almost, _almost_ slipped Dream's mind entirely over the last few months, as life settled into a comfortable sort of pattern. The symptoms had eased, the morning sickness giving way to only the occasional nausea at certain smells, the exhaustion was no better but he never seemed to have to exert himself enough for it to become noticeable, and everything else seemed to fade into the background, becoming nothing more than the norm. 

But now, he could no longer close the clasp of his plackart, and it was finally dawning on him that this was truly _happening._ No matter how hard he forced it, it refused, the pudge on his stomach completely unforgiving. 

He hadn't noticed himself gaining weight, but he certainly had, if this was any sign of it. He avoided looking at his reflection more than ever, hating the mere thought of what his body was currently doing, and so, he hadn't been able to see the softening of his abs, the widening of his hips, the once-smooth dip down to his thighs rounding out. And now he was faced with it, glaring at the beast of his unwanted child and a plackart that wouldn't close properly. 

"Who needs armor anyway," he muttered to himself, giving up and taking off his breastplate as well. Sometimes he went without his breastplate anyway, so maybe it wouldn't be too strange to have no armor on his torso, and nobody would point it out. Adapt and overcome--or was he just prolonging the inevitable, trying to hide something that would quickly become impossible to hide? Was he smart or just a scared idiot?

_Leaders... Leaders shouldn't have kids._

Scared idiot, then. Trying to keep this a secret would only lead to more people getting upset in the end, but still, he continued with his daily routine, pretending as if it wasn't real no matter how much it made him hate himself. 

How was ever ever supposed to be a good parent if this was the mindset he had about his own fucking child? Pretending like it didn't exist, that was just was his mom did with him and he wasn't any better for it. For a moment, he considered life once it was born, considered a life where it grew up sad and miserable as he did, unwanted and unloved, but the prospect was too genuine, too painful, and he blocked it out, not wanting to consider the very probable future where he was a shitty parent. 

Sure, he may deserve the pain from what he had done in the past, but the kid was nothing more than that; a kid. A kid that he wasn't going to abort out of a fear for his own life, which meant that it was his responsibility to care for it. The baby was his punishment for his own hubris, yes, but the baby itself... _It_ didn't do any of the things he did, _it_ didn't deserve the pain of being brought into a world where it had nobody around to care for it, all it had ever done was exist. 

He sighed wearily, and looked down at the slight curve in his abdomen with heavy eyes. "I'll try, kid. I'll try, because I have to let somebody out there know that I'm better."

Starting his day after that was difficult, but he managed. A small voice in his head tried to tell him not to eat, but he still choked down breakfast, silently reminding himself of his promise. He wasn't his mother, he was going to take care of himself and his child by extension. He grabbed his supplies and tools and set out to L'Manberg, a now-familiar journey that he made almost daily. Despite his reservations, the nation had been prospering in the last two months, and with only four more weeks to go until Techno promised to visit, things seemed to be looking up. While he might be struggling as an individual, nobody else seemed to be, at least. 

Of course, there was still plenty of time for it to all go horribly wrong. Hopefully, his own mind was not foreshadowing anything, and L'Manberg would not be destroyed by withers.

By the time he arrived to the fledgling nation, he was panting; he really needed to learn more about pregnancy, he wasn't sure if it was normal to feel so goddamned tired all of the time. It was hard to worry here, though, in the bustling streets amongst friendly chatter, and he set aside his concerns as something to return to later. His first stop, the bakery, was open as usual, and he was able to pick up some more food for himself that was better than anything he was able to make for himself. He greeted Ranboo with a quick nod as he passed him, and Fundy with a wave. They returned the gestures with smiles, something that never would have happened in the past. It felt nice, the warmth of happiness blossoming in his chest as he carried his items to the capitol building. He met with Tubbo frequently just to check in and make sure he was running everything smoothly, and all it took was sticking his head into his office and asking him if it was "going alright", and he was out of there. 

He didn't have many responsibilities to take care of, and after that, he sat himself down on a bench and busied himself with sharpening his sword on a whetstone, not knowing what else to do. If somebody needed him for whatever reason, he was available. 

The sun was warm, the breeze cool enough to be pleasant, and he was comfortable to drift off at some point; he didn't sleep in public, didn't sleep much at all in general, since hybrids tended to need less sleep depending on what their non-human heritage was, but he was too tired to try and stop himself from napping. He didn't have any dreams, thank goodness, so at least it was restful.

When he woke up, it was to the sensation of somebody shaking his shoulder, worry in their voice. 

"Dream? Are you okay-- oh, you're awake." Dream opened his eyes to find Tubbo and Quackity standing above his prone form as he lay there on the bench, satchel still open next to him. He adjusted his mask and coughed awkwardly.

"I'm fine, just didn't get enough sleep last night and ended up falling aleep here, I guess."

"O-oh, okay, I've just never seen you do that and I was thinking that something was wrong, but uh..."

"We need your help, man!" Quackity blurted, at a volume which was not kind to Dream's new tendency to get headaches, "it's not something that's going to like, go horribly wrong, but it's important!"

"We're planning another festival, since all of the others so far have... haven't gone very well. But this time it'll be better! But I thought that maybe you could help plan and build... and all of that? Because maybe you'd have better luck, you know."

"Another festival? What would we even celebrate?"

"Well, I don't know, I guess we'll figure that out? It could be about... our new alliance? Government? Anything, really."

"Could it be about my fat ass?" Quackity asked, sounding just a bit too genuine for Dream's liking. He chuckled, and shook his head.

"Our alliance sounds good. So, when do you think we're going to hold it?" Dream asked, trying to keep the conversation on topic.

"Well, my schedule is booked for the next few weeks... so, maybe in a month? And the boardwalk area where we usually set things up is going to be getting repaired until a few days before the festival, so we'll probably need your help for a lot of the hard labor and all of that." 

_Oh, fuck. I can't do hard labor, and wait, that's the day Techno said that--_

"S-sure," he forced out, before his brain could catch up with his mouth.

_Why the hell did I agree to that? Shit._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a shorter chapter for today, since i woke up at noon and then had to be a productive member of society, unfortunately, which meant i had little time for writing. however, even in a thousand and a half words i can cause problems for these poor, poor characters. sorry fellas. 
> 
> kudos and comments are appreciated, as always.


	13. act III, scene II

"Why am I so goddamned stupid?"

The second he got back to his house in the evening, he collapsed on the floor in front of the door and put his head hands, fists forming to grab at his hair. The worst idea he'd possibly had was not just agreeing to Techno's deal of three months, but then telling the rest of L'Manberg that he'd defeated him after he'd fled from the duel, invisible. He didn't know why he did it; in the moment, he'd just assumed that they'd do just fine and there wouldn't be any issues, but _fuck,_ something could obviously go wrong and if it did, everybody would despise him more than they already did. 

If Techno actually destroyed L'Manberg, there would be no chance of redemption.

Embarrassment and shame forced tears to fall, which only served to make him feel worse. He slipped his mask off so he could wipe at his eyes with his hoodie sleeve, utterly sick of the feeling of salt drying on his cheeks, and of the sensation of crying in general. 

"Fuck, I need... I need help or something, I don't know," he muttered to himself, voice shaky. Dealing with all of this while pregnant made the situations just that bit too distressing; he didn't have the slightest idea of what he was doing, where he was going, or what his life would become in the next few months. Talking to Sapnap had helped, but he knew that neither of them were prepared for what life was going to bring-- _god,_ he just needed somebody else to help him with the kid. If the weight of that burden was off of his shoulders, and he knew how to handle it, then he'd be alright. He'd struggle, but it would be manageable. It would be _better._

And so, he let himself consider George. As he picked himself up off the ground, took off his armor, hung up his weapons, and then finally sat down on the edge of his bed, he wondered what would happen if he asked George to provide that help.

On one hand, he was the father of his child, one of two massive problems he was currently dealing with. He could be clueless and blunt, but he was dependable enough. On the other hand, however, Dream was still angry at him. He was too apathetic about everything, he hadn't tried to comfort him in the months since his heat, and while Dream had said he wanted space to think, he was relatively certain that he'd started hinting to him that he was willing to start to connect again. In the end, he wouldn't help, _couldn't._ George was his best friend, but that didn't mean he was going to be a good father.

But who else was there? Did he have to settle with George, putting a strain on their already-tense relationship? His feelings about him were already confusing enough, he didn't need to open another can of worms. There had to be somebody, there _had_ to be--

_Well, maybe_ he'll _know something about kids. All I have to do is get him to remember._

* * *

_"She's lovely," Dream murmured, not knowing what else to say. Children frightened him, and this was nothing more than a baby, a fragile newborn that was so easy to hurt. Her eyes were shut tight as she squirmed around, tiny mewls escaping from her equally-tiny mouth; was she distressed, or simply adjusting to her surroundings? He didn't know, and decided not to touch her if it happened to be the former. He didn't want her to start crying, that would make him look bad._

_"Thank you, I think she's just brilliant, too," Wilbur flashed Dream a quick grin, and then focused his attention back on his child, cooing at her with a gentleness rarely seen. Wilbur was young, impulsive, and a self-labelled 'dirty crime boy', and it was odd to imagine him as a father at all, especially not as this kind of father, so nurturing and kind. He ran a drug dealing business, for fuck's sake._

_"... What did you name her?"_

_"I've named her Fundy. Sally... well, she doesn't talk much, and she wouldn't give any input. That's okay, though, I like the name. I'm just glad she's healthy. 'S all I really care about."_

_"Well, are you sure she's healthy? She has..." Dream gestured to the set of orange fox ears folded down on her head; he wasn't quite sure what to make of them, in all honestly, and while he'd seen many strange things in his life, the ears were a bit too odd._

_"The ears? I don't really care about that, they're just ears, they're not hurting anything. Does it really matter what body parts somebody has?"_

_Dream thought of his own body, with every single imperfection and part that didn't belong. To him, it mattered. He didn't voice that thought aloud though, only nodded in silence, not wanting to argue with Wilbur at such a time._

_"So, do you want to hold her?"_

_"I'll... I'll pass on that. She's too small, I don't want to hurt her."_

_"I'm sure you wouldn't, but if you don't want to, that's okay. It's a bit scary dealing with something so small, I understand." Wilbur let Fundy grasp his index finger with a tiny hand, smiling as she shook it around. It was so natural, so genuine, the connection between them. If Dream were a different man, he might've wept at the sight._

_"Where did you learn to be such a good dad?"_

_"I dunno, I think it just came naturally to me. I never thought I'd be a father, but it's not such a bad job, and I like it. It's pretty simple, I think. You've just gotta love them."_

And that was the hardest part.

The memory that had come to mind as Dream made the trek around the SMP in an attempt to find Wilbur was painful, as many were, but not in the kind of way that made him forget it. Wilbur was a good father, _had_ been at least, before he'd been killed, but the only advice he'd ever given Dream was advice that he couldn't act on. He had a paternal instinct, an instinct to accept and love no matter what he was given, even if that happened to be a son born in a daughter's body with fox's blood. 

Wilbur was a good father, though. Wilbur knew enough about how to care for children, he'd be able to teach Dream the basics. Yes, he was dead, and he lacked a lot of his memory, but he had enough of it to know Fundy was his son, and that was enough. 

However, Wilbur was also quite difficult to find. He spent most of his time wandering aimlessly, with no home and no destination in mind, and the only place where he frequented was the library in L'Manberg. Dream did not feel like making the trek all the way there, but so far, his other popular haunting spots were vacant, which meant that was where he was, most likely. 

And so, he made the trip, and lo and behold, Wilbur was in the library, mulling over a thick, dusty tome while floating between the shelves. 

"Hey, Ghostbur," Dream said, catching his attention. Wilbur set the book down and drifted over, beaming a smile. 

"Hi Dream! Welcome to my library! You don't usually come to see me... but it's nice that you're here anyway." God, he was so earnest. Dream wished like hell that he hadn't been the one behind his death. When he thought of the diamond blade passing through his chest, wielded by his own father, and the son he left behind, all he could do was grimace. It hurt to know he set it into motion. It was a meaningless conflict, he wasn't sure why he ever pursued it. 

Maybe he just wanted to feel important. Important and needed.

"Ah, thank you, I've actually come here to talk to you about something that's pretty pressing, at least to me. If you're not busy right now, I'd just like to ask you about a few things."

"Oh! Well, it depends on what it is, but I might know! I have a lot of books here, you know. I've forgotten a lot of things, but some things I can remember!"

"You should know about this, I think... What do you know about kids?"

"Kids? Well, they're little humans. They're usually alive--I've only met kids who are alive, like Tommy and Tubbo."

"No, Wilbur, what do you know about raising kids?"

"... Why did you call me Wilbur?"

"Because that's you. When you were alive, and you were Wilbur, you had a son. You raised him. When you died, you left him as an orphan."

"Fundy? Well, he is an orphan now, like you said. I'm not a dad anymore."

"But you _used_ to be! When you first showed me him, you seemed so happy--don't you remember the happy things? You remember raising him, don't you?"

"... Dream, I... I used to remember a lot more. But I keep... I forget a lot more. The longer I'm a ghost, the less I know about who Wilbur was. I remember the happy things, but when the happy things become sad things, I let them go."

"So you... you let go of the memory of raising your son?"

"Well, yes. I don't really like thinking about Fundy, though, so I kind of want to talk about something else, if you could do that..."

"I didn't come here to talk about him in the first place, I just wanted to know what you know about childrearing. Do you have advice? Books? Anything, really?"

"I think... I think I have a bit of advice. You know, people don't really ask me for advice anymore. It makes me a bit sad, and I'm not really sure why. It might be because I forget too much. I do that a lot. But why do you want to know? The youngest person here is Tommy, and I think he knows how to take care of himself by now, if you didn't know that. He's sixteen, people are usually self-sufficient when they're that age."

_The youngest person here is in this room, goddamnit._

"It's a bit of a strange story, really, and I don't know if I have time for it--"

"I love stories! Here, if you want me to, I can even write it down for you so that I can keep it in the library--"

"No, no, that's really not necessary. I just want to know because... well, the thought occurred to me one day that I might end up having to take care of a kid, since we get a lot of people coming through these lands. I am one of the leaders here, I think it's important for me to have these kinds of skills."

"I guess that makes sense... I think I have two books about this, if I recall correctly, but I don't often recall things correctly, you know." Without waiting for any sort of response, Wilbur floated off to browse the bookshelves, returning moments later with two books, as promised. He handed them over with a smile. 

"I did have two, I was right! One of them is about being a good parent, and the other is about being a good parent when the baby is still inside of you. I've heard that part isn't very fun, though, I wouldn't recommend doing that," Wilbur's voice dropped to a whisper, and Dream couldn't help but chuckle wearily.

"Oh, I'm sure it isn't fun." With that, Dream left, throwing a quick 'thank you' behind him as he did so. He wasn't expecting to get any information about pregnancy, so it was a nice surprise to have a whole book on it. The second he was out of L'Manberg and certain in his solitude, he opened it, skimming the pages to look for anything useful. The book was handwritten, the scrawling text difficult to read in places, but it was easy enough to figure out that it was sectioned by month, and he flipped to the chapter about the third. 

It wasn't neither long nor thorough, but it had enough to assure Dream that he was, in fact, doing okay. Exhaustion was common, but often dissipated after the third month. Vaginal bleeding could occur early on if he did anything to disturb the area, and as he was often on the move and fighting, it only made sense that would irritate his body. His hormones were off-kilter, which could lead to mood swings and more volatile emotions. There was more to read, but thank god, it was alright. The baby was probably fine and he wasn't dying. 

He had a guide, and he had a framework.

He was going to be okay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i write and post this chapter while listening to tubbo and tommy's finale streams. can't say i'm not nervous, but hey, at least the disc war is over in this fic! anyway, kudos and comments are appreciated, as always.


	14. act III, scene III

Wilbur's book had become Dream's bible, an island of calm in a life full of turmoil. However, Wilbur's book told him that he shouldn't overexert himself, and he didn't know if he could take its advice in that particular regard.

The festival was three weeks away, and even if they couldn't set up yet, they still needed the supplies for it. They also needed the materials to fix the many pathways, and with construction going so slowly, Dream made the stupid choice of volunteering to gather spruce wood in the tundra. Between getting massive amounts of wool for banners and flags and carting over loads of structural items for the more technical buildings, he was relatively certain he was 'overexerting' himself. 

So far, though, nothing bad had happened, so he continued doing what he was doing and ignored every plea from his body to stop and slow down. 

He came home exhausted, collapsed into bed, and often neglected to take his armor off. Rinse and repeat; it was miserable, but it was also redemption. He would build up the nation he had once torn down, and by god, he would make sure it stood. For Tommy and Tubbo, whom he had ripped apart, for Quackity, whom he let bleed, for Fundy, whom he left alone--for all of them. Each sin was repented by another day of work, another hour of utilizing his strength for good. Instead of praying on his hands and knees, he made promises and requests with each swing of his axe. 

He was doing the right thing, so fuck the consequences. 

He dreamt strangely, these days. Before, it was mostly nonsense or ruined memories, but now he would wake up in a cold sweat, vivid flashes dancing behind his eyelids. They were still disjointed and strange, not nightmares, per se, but unsettling. He saw wet sand with footprints leading into the sea, a dead horse lying in the water, fingers laced with seaweed. He woke up gasping for air, the taste of salt heavy on his tongue, or maybe that was just blood. He fell back under, feeling steel cut into his wrists, the thrill of a knife's blade hovering right under his chin, and awoke to find his hands gripping his neck. He didn't know what any of it meant; was he a prophet, or just insane and doped up on his body's hormones? 

He tried to forget it, but they were too much like omens. He saw seawater when he worked, and gritted his teeth, ignoring the warnings. Hybrids had many strengths, but even they couldn't see the future. It didn't mean anything, these visions. 

He pushed himself further and harder, knowing it was the wrong thing but desperate to run, to escape from the intangible terror of his own mind. He had told himself that he was going to be okay, but this was the opposite, this was fear and regret fueling him, and nothing else. 

He wasn't okay at all, but he couldn't stop. Couldn't fucking stop until his vision went white hauling logs, and he doubled over as his stomach caved in. It wasn't the worst pain he'd ever felt in his life, but the way it ached, like he was coming apart, made him know something was wrong.

Three weeks until the festival, and he was lying on the dirt, trying to catch his breath as his whole body was rejecting itself. Was the baby dying? Was he dying? He choked on his own vomit and accepted it, accepted the uncertainty and the searing pain, the only thing he had left. He held his abdomen and wept as he always did, silently and violently, sinking into the darkness. 

He remembered his dreams of the ocean, and imagined being dragged by his ankles in the dark water, deeper, to a place where there was no air, only the most primal, rawest pieces of yourself. 

It took him a while to surface again, and when the pain had finally subsided enough for his mind to be coherent again, he found himself propped up under a tree, still gasping as his heart fluttered in his chest and tendrils worked their way up to his ribs, tangling in his flesh. It still hurt, a duller, less prominent ache, and he let his hands pull away from his stomach, trying to process what had happened. How had he gotten over here, exactly? Had he crawled over, or had--

There was a whole crowd gathered around him, _of course_ there was. Somehow, he'd been moved all the way to L'Manberg, and curious citizens inspected him; their eyes seemed to dig into his very soul, making his skin crawl. He immediately tried to get to his feet, desperate to hide, make himself not exist. He'd made a mistake, overworking himself, and he promised to himself in that moment that he wouldn't do it again, if only he could get out of this situation. 

He could see Tubbo running up, though. Damnit, not him, not now.

Dream wasn't sure if he was getting out of this one. He was on his feet, hunched over, but his knees buckled and he grabbed a nearby tree branch for support. Fuck it if he wasn't going to try to run, though.

"Dream, stop! Don't try to go anywhere right now, you're hurt and..." Ranboo trailed off, eyes widening in horror. A hand found a way to his mouth.

"Holy fuck, are you dying?" Quackity shouted, just as shocked, and Dream followed his eyes down to the ground beneath him, where there was blood, fresh and slick, coating the leaves, dripping from between his _fucking_ legs. 

"... Shit," was all he could say, the rest of his words getting caught in his throat. God, he had to be miscarrying; he was paying the price for overworking himself, he had fucked up the one thing he was trying to do right--but no, the book, that damned book had told him miscarriages weren't quick, they took hours and days, starting light and getting worse as the time passed. Something was wrong, but the baby wasn't dead, and he wasn't dying. All he needed was an instant health potion and everything would be okay.

But there was the issue of everybody around him not knowing about any of this. They wouldn't let him leave to go do what he needed to so easily, they'd try to care for him, ask him what had happened, get him to talk about it, and he sure as hell didn't want to go through any more emotional distress. 

He needed an escape, and while Tubbo had at first seemed like an issue, he realized that he was a chance to get away. He was close enough to see the situation, and so, Dream mustered up all of his strength, forcing past the tightening of his throat, and spoke.

"Tubbo. Tubbo, I need to talk to you."

If he just pretended like he was going to go have a political meeting, then it would be fine. He'd talk for five minutes about some random half-truth and then be on his merry way.

"Oh, uh... You want to talk to me? 'Cause--"

"Are you fucking crazy, man? You're bleeding out from your crotch and _this_ is what you prioritize? You need medical treatment, and if you die because you're off doing political stuff with Tubbo, I'll have wasted all of that time it took to drag you out of the woods and over here." Of course, Quackity didn't like that. Dream forged ahead regardless.

"It's important. Just give me a health potion and I'll be fine, I must've fallen on my sword when I collapsed and cut myself. Before you ask, yes, I'll drink more water next time before I go and try to chop trees so I won't pass out."

"Well, I do have a regen potion, if you want..." Ranboo said, pulling out a glass bottle with slight hesitance. Dream nodded, accepting it in silence and quickly chugging it. It tasted like rosehip and burned going down, stinging in a way it normally didn't. 

"Thanks. I need to go to the capitol building now, so please, let me go. If anything happens, Tubbo can drag me out to get medical attention, or whatever." The potion was already doing wonders, and Dream started to make his way towards Tubbo's office, mentally sighing in relief. He'd learned his lesson, he wouldn't push himself so far, he'd spread out the work that he had to do for the festival, and all would be fine. 

All he had to do was keep assuring himself it was fine, and maybe it would be.

"Um, well, I'll keep an eye on him, guys! Don't worry...?"

* * *

It was not 'all fine', in fact. The second Dream was seated in the office, Tubbo's demeanor completely shifted, confused smile becoming something resembling a grimace. He paced in silence for a moment, and then spoke, tone serious.

"Listen, Dream. I may just be a kid, but even I know what a lie looks like. You don't just start... bleeding like that. People like you don't just pass out, either. And I don't think you have anything to tell me, either. You just used me to... to get out of there."

"I'm sorry. It was a bad lie, I know. I just couldn't deal with so many people... looking at me. I think I've come to realize that I just don't like being seen. It's not a good trait as a leader, but it is something I struggle with. I ruled this land for so long believing that all I wanted was control, and now that I'm here, I realize that it was all I despised. I think all people have tortured themselves at some point." Dream laughed bitterly, letting his fingers interlace. "But I'm not doing well right now, that much is true. The last few days, I haven't felt right. I don't know what's wrong."

The lie was bitter, but so easy to say. Maybe it was his nature to conceal, to hide. 

"It's not just been the last few days! I-I'm sorry, but... no, I'm not sorry, to hell with being polite. Do you think I didn't notice any of the stuff that's been going on with you for months now? Do you think I don't hear you throw up in the spare room next to mine after our meetings? Do you think none of us can't see how _tired_ you are? The old you was awful, but at least he was _honest._ "

"... You're a kid, Tubbo. What's wrong with me is something that... that's for the adults to handle."

"I'm sick of hearing that! I'm so sick of hearing that 'I'm just a kid'! I'm young, but I'm not bloody stupid, and I've seen enough in my life to be able to handle this. I'm just trying to make things right with you, why do you just _insist_ on refusing?"

_I don't know,_ his mind said, but no, there was an answer.

Dream remembered Tubbo, back when his smile was bright and untroubled on his freckled face, and he wore a trifold hat that balanced precariously on his horns with a gilded uniform to go with it, just one size too big so the sleeves covered his hands. Dream remembered when he pushed up those sleeves to point a crossbow at his heart with the shakiest of aims, singing songs of independence and liberty with a trembling voice. Dream remembered watching him stand next to Schlatt at the podium, posture stiff, trying to play the role of an official to make his dad proud. 

That Tubbo was a boy, a boy trying to learn where he fit in a world that was much too violent and confusing. This Tubbo standing before him was not that same boy. His eyes were harder, and so much more tired. His horns were longer, curled and jagged. He spoke with a conviction that could rally a nation.

Dream hadn't fully realized this change until now. He saw it, though. He saw it and he acknowledged it.

"... They say that fear is a person's worst enemy. Based on all of this, I'd say I'd agree. You ask why I refuse help? Well, the answer is simple: I'm a _coward._ I have always been scared. I was born into fear and I will die in fear. But for once, I'll face that fear.

"I'm not sick. Not in the usual way, at least. By all accounts, I am healthy, and my body is doing everything that it should."

"So what's all of this, then?" Tubbo said with a frustrated groan, gesturing to Dream's slumped form and bloodstained clothes. 

"Well, I think the answer will disappoint you. I remember something you told me a few months ago, and I can't help but think of it now. 'Leaders shouldn't have kids,' that's what you told me. It haunts me, in all honesty, because on that very day, I came to truly realize something about myself. Tubbo, I am carrying a child. I am three months pregnant with a child that nobody, not even myself, wants."

For a long, long time, Tubbo was quiet. He stopped pacing, and simply stood in place, unreadable. Dream didn't know if he regretted his words or not, but he was lighter, at least. A three-month old mess of emotions, dumped in front of a teenager because he happened to pry too far.

"... I don't remember a lot about being a really young kid, really. I remember Schlatt's face, I remember his voice, but not much else. The first thing I really remember is sitting in a cardboard box in the cold, and then having Phil stumble upon me. It's kind of weird, isn't it, that my first memory is of being abandoned? I was born unwanted. Sometimes, I cry myself to sleep and I think about how my own parents didn't even want me or care about me. So yeah, maybe leaders shouldn't have kids, but if they're going to, they should try to _care, goddamnit!"_

Dream thought of the words he spoke to his unborn child, promising it that he would do his best to care for it. He thought of each axe swing that led to the pain stabbing through his abdomen, the blood trickling down his legs as he was reminded of the fact that he didn't care enough.

Some people tried so, so hard to have children. Some people begged and pleaded for the very thing Dream begged and pleaded to not have. Who was he to say he didn't love it? Why did both him and George lack the ability to care?

"It was unplanned, but it doesn't mean that I'm not trying my best to love it. For better or for worse, this is my child, and I'll... I'll try. I'll try because I don't want them to deal with what you or I did. I will not abandon them, Tubbo, I won't leave them. I may have fucked up, but they didn't, and they don't deserve to be alone. No person does."

Tubbo was angry at him, he knew, but he still wept into Dream's shoulder regardless, tears staining his sleeve. He hugged him and let him cry, because god knew he needed it. Dream had never had a shoulder to cry on, with no parent who cared enough to offer the support, and no siblings either, but if it was necessary, he would be that person for Tubbo. They weren't family by blood, but Dream would serve the role of big brother.

The way he sobbed hurt, so desperate and weak and full of a pain that had accumulated over months and years. Like vitriol, it dripped out, heavy and viscous, and Dream took on the burden of a forgotten child, as he'd done so many times. 

It was indeed a curse to remember all of one's life. To remember another's, however, was something he could handle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and this is what we call the early signs of a placenta previa (with a few liberties taken for the sake of the story). if you want to know what that is, well, google exists for a reason. that will come into play much, much later, but for now, it's going to be off the radar. you know me, creating problems, it's nothing new. for now, though, we've got a festival to look forward to, and boy, do those dreams mean something. 
> 
> kudos and comments are appreciated, as always.


	15. act III, scene IV

Another dream, but this time, he drowned in it. He fell into the water and it filled his lungs, sitting heavy in his body and dragging him to the sand. He didn't fight it. It was too cold to do that. He let his back rest against the grains and inhaled the sea, embracing darkness.

When he woke up, he wasn't panicking. He wasn't sure if it was a nightmare or not. It stuck with him, like the other ones. 

He always wondered why he felt such a strong connection to the ocean. He always felt drawn to it, like he wanted something that the land couldn't provide. He remembered talking to Sapnap in front of the water, feeling the sun beat down on his back--but no, that wasn't the part of the sea that called to him. He wanted to look out at the waves and watch them crash against the shore like they had a life of their own, he wanted to watch the moon and stars peer out from between curtains of grey clouds, he wanted to feel the wind bite into his skin, blowing wild and free, deafening him with its strength.

Something had always scared him about the beach at night, though. It was sinister in a way, holding secrets and dangers that you couldn't anticipate when it was so desperately hungry. But maybe, it was time to face that, and with it, find some sort of catharsis.

Because maybe, just maybe, the ocean had a memory that he had repressed. He remembered a lot of things now, but there had to be something else tethering him, something else drawing him to dip his toes into the water, if only to see. 

And so, three days before the festival, Dream walked down to the beach and sat down on the damp sand, looking out to the horizon. The wind howled, ruffling his hair and ripping any words he spoke right into the void of the night. 

He wasn't sure if he felt at peace here or not; he simply felt empty, utterly incomplete. 

Tubbo had tried, over the last few weeks, to extend a helping hand to him, and he wasn't sure what part of him was missing that would be able to accept it. Dream tried too, he really did, resting and staying away from the construction sites and doing all the research he could. In just five months, he'd have a baby. A living, breathing, screaming baby that needed food and love. He couldn't hurt it, not anymore. 

But a part of him wanted to keep trying to repent for what he'd done. A part of him would always strive to make up for the pain, and that was only hurting the two of them.

So maybe, the part that was missing was love. Not love for anybody else, but love for _himself._ He did all of these things to keep safe, only because Tubbo asked him to. He tried to live in the moment, only because Sapnap reminded him to do so. He stayed away from George because he'd reminded him to keep all the space he needed between the two of them.

He didn't love himself. He'd never loved himself, not in his more than two decades of life. And when one found no worth in their own body, how could they ever be expected to think they deserved any sort of help? 

Like Tantalus, they would reach and reach, desperate to find him, but he could only stay right out of arm's length. He'd always be untouchable as long as he was free from connections.

He didn't want this, but god, he didn't know how to fix it.

He sighed, drawing his knees up to his chest to fend off the chill of the air, and looked towards the roiling ocean, not knowing what else to do. Here he was, at a crossroads. He could take time to explore himself and find what he liked, or he could accept what he was now, an unreachable sort of misery, and die alone. 

One was the right choice, of course. So why did it have to be so hard? Why did good things have to be so goddamned difficult to achieve, when falling apart was so much easier?

When Dream took off the mask for that first time, letting George's heavy eyes take in those features, it had been so easy to break. He wouldn't be in this goddam situation was it not for the urge to sink into lust, and lose himself. If it was so easy to get people to like him, he wouldn't have pushed himself until he bled.

How did god expect anybody to live when death was so, so easy to achieve? Why struggle for nirvana when you could escape with one single footstep, one swipe of a blade? What was the _point?_

And finally, the memory surfaced.

_He'd seen dead bodies. This one was no different, he guessed. Once a person's soul was gone, a body was just a body, after all. Just some flesh and muscle and an empty mind._

_So, just because this body lay in his house and looked like his mama, it didn't mean he had to be sad about it. His mama was somewhere else now, somewhere where the pain was gone, and that wasn't a sad thing. This was just her body, the thing shackling her to the place where she had been hurt._

_He brushed the flies off her face, and tried to drag her body out of the house, even though he told himself he didn't care. It made him feel sick, and he stopped; she'd wanted to die, and she'd wanted to do it there, so why move her, anyway? He could just go somewhere else. They lived next to the sea, in a little cabin by a dock, and he could just go in a boat and find a new home._

_He could go into the water, and he'd find freedom just as she had._

_It wasn't that bad, really._

_But why had mama wanted to die? She was very lonely, and Dream was her only friend. She yelled at him a lot, she hit him sometimes, but she loved him in the end, of course, and that should have been enough. So had Dream done something wrong?_

_Was this his fault?_

_No, she just wanted to stop hurting. She wanted to leave the pain behind. It wasn't that bad, really._

_She was happy now._

"... So that's why I'm like this, huh?" Dream muttered to himself, knowing he was crying but not having the energy to move his hand up to brush them away. Water on his cheeks, water in the sea, it didn't really matter where it was.

He didn't know what to do, not after that. He didn't want to think about it anymore, but he didn't have anything else to do, either. 

Something in his stomach fluttered, a sort of tapping sensation that he'd felt in the last few days, and he managed a pathetic, tight-lipped smile. No matter what, he had this baby inside of him, and he wasn't going to die before he'd brought it into this world. If he couldn't live for himself, he could live for other people, and especially for this one. His fingers ghosted across the fabric covering his abdomen, as if he could somehow comfort the life inside.

Had his mother felt the same way about him, when she'd felt him stirring? Dream knew he wasn't wanted, but hell, this kid wasn't either, so had she been able to muster up some sort of motherly instinct? Probably not, no, although maybe that was just Dream praying that he was different from her, and that he wouldn't repeat the cycle.

He had so much more on the line than her, though. He was a better goddamned person than his mom. He was alive because he wanted to be. He was alive because something about life was beautiful enough for him to stay. 

And then, his vision went white with pain as something slammed into the back of his skull. He felt forward, just barely managing to put up a hand in front of his stomach to stop a steel-toed boot from ramming into it. He felt his finger bones crack in a way that wasn't normal, index finger bending completely the wrong way, and _fuck_ it hurt, but at least that hadn't been his abdomen. 

He rolled clumsily away from the direction of the attacks, shaking his head to clear it. He caught a flash of red and gold--oh, it was Technoblade, why was Techno attacking him? Goddamnit, he could barely fight him three months ago, and he certainly couldn't now, not while four months pregnant. 

"What--what do you want?" Dream gasped, getting to his knees and drawing his sword, trying to act as if he'd be able to use it. His battered hand was quickly going numb, and was barely usable. 

"Don't put up a fight," Techno growled, advancing again. Dream tried to get to his feet to run, but spots danced in his vision, and he threw up, collapsing back on the ground. He must've gotten concussed from that blow, then, since it was so strong. He felt blood drip down the back of his neck, hair already matted with it.

"I've done everything right, I don't--" he retched painfully, turning to the side to vomit more bile somewhere that wasn't on his clothes and gripping his abdomen. His head spun, and it felt as if something was trying to smash its way out of his skull.

It was over for him.

"Well, if you've done everything right, then I'll put you back on the beach in time for your little festival." 

"... I can't... I'm..." His mind was quickly losing any sort of coherency, words turning slurred as the dizziness fully overtook him. Everything was foggy. He could barely see anymore. There was a buzzing in his ears, slowly overtaking everything. The last of his strength gave away, and he slumped over, shoulder hitting the ground.

He felt water wash over him, cold and paralyzing, just like in his dream. He remembered how the seaweed tangled his fingers, how he fell into the depths, and now, he understood. He was drowning here.

"Holy shit, are you actually dying, oh... I didn't hit you that hard, man! Come on, chin up, stop... puking, oh god did I actually kill him, why is he so weak all of a sudden..."

But Dream couldn't answer, he was already out like a light.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> well, that's not good, is it?
> 
> kudos and comments are appreciated, as always.


	16. act III, scene V

It smelled like alpha. Like ash and smoke and wildfires.

Dream didn't know where he was, or where the scent was coming from, but it was enough to drag him from a sleep that was so deep it was bordering on death.

His mind felt foggy, but he tried to scope his surroundings out with smell, touch and sound, scared to open his eyes lest he reveal that he was awake. He had been... he had been kidnapped by Techno, that was the last thing he remembered, getting hit over the head by him. Techno was dangerous. He needed to pretend to stay asleep; he let his breathing become deep and even, and then, he focused.

The air around him was cold and dry. He could hear the roar of a gale outside, faint but strong enough to be audible, wherever he happened to be. He could feel something rough on his wrists and ankles; he was bound, then. 

So, definitely kidnapped. And Techno had put him in his basement, most likely, where he would be easy to keep an eye on. In his current state, it wasn't as if he was much of a threat, so the manacles weren't really necessary, but it wasn't like he was going to get them taken off anytime soon.

He sighed, and then inhaled again, gauging the scent. It was getting stronger, more frustrated. Dream's hair raised. Back when he'd taken those damned pills, his hormones had been almost completely suppressed, and he hadn't been able to pick up people's scents like he was now; he wished he'd learned what the others smelled like, he'd be able to recognize who this was.

Well, it was probably Techno, but at the same time, there was something else added to that scent, something cleaner and duller. Something that wasn't alpha.

Somebody else.

And then, he heard a door open. Two pairs of footsteps heralded a conversation.

"... Phil, listen, I kind of... messed up a bit, y'know? You've made mistakes before, of course, but this one is... well, it's bad." 

"I'm sure it can't be _that_ bad, son. You've betrayed an entire nation, how could this be worse?"

Philza and Techno. It made sense, he supposed. Everybody on the server thought Techno was gone for good, and that Dream had utterly crushed him, but Phil was a father figure of sorts to him. Of course Techno would come to Phil for support.

"Well, heh, it kind of feel worse, in a way. I think I need to explain why, though. Before I, err, show you, I need to explain myself a little bit. So you know Dream, right? I told you that he came and fought me like three months ago, but I didn't tell you about our whole... promise thing. I mean, it wasn't a great idea, and I don't think Dream liked it either, but hey, we agreed on it. I said that I wouldn't attack them for three months, and I'd come back after that amount of time to see how they were doing. If L'Manberg was prospering, I promised that I wouldn't destroy it. And I may be a _bit_ violent sometimes, but I'm not a dishonorable guy--I know, it can be hard to believe sometimes, but I wasn't going to go back on the promise. But... I kind of panicked. A lot. You know I'm not good under pressure."

Dream heard the sound of a trapdoor opening, and a ladder creaking as two people climbed down it. They were in the room--fuck, he had to be quiet, he was supposed to be asleep.

"... What the fuck, Techno?"

"Hey, I know this looks bad! 'You can't just go and kidnap Dream', that's what you're thinking, but let me justify myself. My plan was to just rough him up a bit and then ask him how things were going in L'Manberg. That was it. I wanted a truthful answer from him, and I wasn't sure if I'd be able to get it without a little bit of that good ol' fashioned _negotiation with force._ Sure, I could've just surveyed L'Manberg while invisible, but that wouldn't help! From the outside, it looked perfectly fine while Schlatt was ruling, you know. So I wanted to get it from one of the guys in charge--But he went down like a sack of bricks, man! I think I gave him a concussion or something, because he threw up all over the place and passed out. So imagine yourself in my position: you're standing on a beach at night, Dream is laying in front of you looking dead, and you're right next to L'Manberg, a country that does not like you very much. Can you see why I panicked?"

"You... You almost killed him, and then you decided that the best course of action was to _kidnap him!?"_

"Well, uh... when you put it like that, it makes me sound a bit stupid..." Techno said with a nervous laugh. "It wasn't the plan, though! Really, like I said, it was only supposed to be a bit of _negotiation with force,_ and like, a ten minute conversation tops. But... you're right, I did mess up."

"No kidding! Is his hand broken? His finger looks..."

"I tried to give him a health potion, but then it all just dripped out of his mouth and I couldn't get him to drink it! I didn't want to leave him like this either!"

"You could have just put an instant health potion directly on the wound and it would've healed--"

"I only had regen potions! I didn't want to go leave to get the ingredients to make more health ones."

"Well, he looks _awful,_ Techno! And you've had him here for how long now? Two days? Has he eaten or drunk or anything since then? How is he not _dead?"_

"Look at him! He's a hybrid, I don't think he needs to eat that much. And yeah, maybe I shouldn't have taken off his mask, but I needed to so I could try to give him the potion. I didn't know he'd... be like that underneath it."

He hadn't eaten in two days? While Techno was right about the food thing, his baby, on the other hand... was it still alive? Oh god, he hoped he'd feel a kick or something soon. 

"Okay... Alright, okay, this is something we have to deal with now, huh. So you think he's in a coma now?"

"I mean, yeah, he hasn't woken up. And... well, it's made worse by the fact that... I mean, I don't know _much_ about people, but I'm _pretty_ sure he's pregnant--"

"He's _what!?"_

"I mean, he kind of... looks that way in the front, and while I don't go around smelling a lot of people, he _does_ smell that way. Like bread, you know? You know what bread is, right--"

"Of course I know what bread is--I'm not questioning your judgement, but he is the last person I'd think that would--and wait, when did you realize this?"

"Uh... I realized when I put him in my basement?"

"... So you're telling me that you kidnapped Dream, realized he was pregnant, and then... tied him up and _left_ him here? For two days? With a broken hand that could get infected, no food, no water... Techno, if you needed me to help you, you should have come and gotten me sooner... J _esus."_

"Okay, it sounds really, really bad when you put it like that. Err... well, I unfortunately can't change what I did, so can you at least try to help me now?"

"We can talk about this more later, you're right. He needs help now. Go get the healing potions, water, and some bake potatoes. I'll try to force something down his throat."

Dream didn't exactly want to pretend to be asleep while Phil was trying to get him to swallow something. If there was any time to 'wake up', it was now.

Apparently, Phil was a bit closer to him than he'd previously though, and he was also staring directly at his face, so when he opened his eyes , he jumped back with a startled shout.

"Oh shit! He's--just go get the stuff, don't worry," Phil called, and Dream watched Techno's legs disappear up the ladder. He then lowered his voice, and spoke. "Hey, are you... alright?"

Dream tried to speak, only to find that his throat was too dry. All that came out was a pathetic wheeze.

"Water, you need water I bet... I'm so sorry, son. I'm sorry Techno did this to you. He does things like this when he's scared, it's just the kind of person he is. Are you able to understand me right now? And do you want me to take off these nasty ropes?"

Dream nodded weakly. His whole body hurt; the more conscious he became, slipping out of his two-day slumber, the more aware of his pain he was. The most noticeable pain was the desperate ache of hunger, so bad that they made him wince.

Phil reached out and slowly untied the cloth binding his hands, and then his feet, working with a sort of gentleness that Dream wasn't used to. It felt like this was his dad, tending to him after he'd gotten injured. He'd never had that, of course, but others had told him about it.

It was nice. He really wished he'd had a father.

When Techno returned, Dream was completely freed and propped up in a more comfortable position. He froze, almost dropping one of the glass water bottles he carried when he saw.

"Phil, when did--"

"I untied him. Look at the marks on his wrists, you did it too tight. You hurt him."

"Dream's an adult, he's not like one of your kids," Techno grumbled, but didn't argue anymore. He set down the supplies he'd gathered on the ground next to Dream, pulled out a regen potion along with a water bottle, and moved them a bit closer as some sort of offering. Dream reached out and uncorked the water, slowly sipping while Phil took out an instant health potion and started working on mending his hand. It stung momentarily, but then the horrible numbness and pounding sensation immediately faded, his bones knitting back together and pus-covered wounds closing in front of their eyes. 

Dream coughed, cleared his throat, and then spoke. "Hand me that goddamned potato, I'm starving."

Techno forked it over in silence, and somehow Dream managed to exercise restraint, making sure to take each bite carefully and chew it completely before taking another. He didn't want to make himself sick at a time like this, it wouldn't help. 

"Err... let me explain--" Techno began, but Dream cut him off, raising a hand to placate him.

"When you walked in the door with Philza, I was already awake. Your scent forced me to. Don't bother explaining again, I heard everything."

"... Oh. So you know why I did that."

"Yes. I can't say that I haven't been in the same place as you, either. You have this... complex or something where you seem to think you're responsible for everything on the server. You're not a savior. I was the opposite, but I thought in the same sort of way. I wanted control, and you want control. For different reasons, of course, but it's true. I wanted control over people, and you wanted control over the harm that would come to them."

"Y'know, I've spent years trying to figure this man out, and you seem to have mostly done it in under a minute. It takes one to know one, I guess." Philza chuckled, and handed Dream a golden carrot right as he polished off the baked potato. They weren't his favorite food, since flakes of gold always ended up getting stuck in his teeth, but they were the best food around. Right now, he needed something good for him.

"We were both alone on top of the world." He said, before digging in. 

"Huh. Guess you're right." Techno looked uncomfortable, and turned his gaze away from Dream and Phil, as if he were wishing they'd disappear as long as he couldn't see them. "Heh. Well, I don't apologize much, but I guess I kind of owe you one for that. I don't like owing favors, so you better take advantage of this."

"Eh, I don't really want anything. I have everything I need. L'Manberg's running perfectly fine, by the way. I'd say I passed your test with flying colors."

"... So I don't get to blow it up, huh. I'll find something else to destroy, I'll be fine."

"And why is that? Why do you always feel like you need to do that?"

"Man, I get this question a lot, and every time I answer it, I sound unhinged. Every time! But you're a bit of an odd guy, so it might make sense to you. Anyway, I hear voices. In my head, all the time, all hours of the day. They ask me to kill, burn, destroy, tear, rip, and they praise me whenever I do what they want. I'm my own blood god, my own altar, my own worshipper. At this point, I don't think I want them to be quiet."

Dream was quiet for a while after that, not really sure what else to say. Anything he could've said would've fallen flat.

He couldn't say he felt any pity for him, but he did understand. He had been born like that, cursed to reap without pause, and if he stopped, he'd go mad. That was the life he'd always lived, and would live until his own hubris finally caught up with him. Or maybe old age would be the thing to take him out, although people like him rarely got to die in peace.

"Are you okay?" Phil asked, finally breaking the silence. "I know that's a bit of a loaded question, but physically, at least."

"Mostly I'm fine. Not sure if... the baby is okay. It's not kicking. Pretty sure I bled a bit from that area, it happens every few days. It's been happening since the third month." Dream felt a bit awkward talking about his pregnancy--especially with _these_ people--and he tried to get it over with as quickly as possible. "Nothing I can really do but wait for a kick. At this point, I think I just want to go home."

"Do you want any help getting back to L'Manberg?"

"No, I'll just take the nether back, it's not too far of a walk." Dream stood, groaning as every bone in his body seemed to crack at the same time. Laying in the same place for so long hadn't done him any favors.

"Well, bye then, I guess. Sorry for kidnapping you, man."

"Eh, it could've been worse. All things considered, two days isn't a particularly long time to be kidnapped. But anyway, if you'd like to come live in L'Manberg, I'm sure we could avoid having another situation like this happen in the future."

"... You're offering me, Technoblade, known anarchist and government-hater, a home in a country I have tried to destroy multiple times?"

"Yeah, I am. I know a changed man when I see one." And with that, Dream left the house, headed for the glowing nether portal frame. To his surprise, Techno hadn't adamantly refused his offer; he wasn't even sure why he'd asked in the first place, it just seemed like the right thing to do. He probably wouldn't take him up on it, but a lot of things that seemed impossible had happened to Dream over the last few months. 

In the end, he just didn't want anybody to be lonely. Was it really shocking to think that Techno didn't want to be alone, either?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay, it's time to go on a mini-rant, because jeez, why the hell is a golden carrot the best food item in the game? gold is inert, you don't get any nutrients from it because your body doesn't absorb it. it's literally just a normal carrot but shiny, what makes it so much better? i work as a professional chef, and i would never use anything like this in a dish. it has no point. it's just a gross carrot. 
> 
> okay, rant over. kudos and comments are appreciated, as always.


	17. act III, scene VI

"Dream!" 

The second he walked into L'Manberg, Tubbo tackled Dream, wrapping him in a tight bear hug. He let out a loud sob, burying his head in his chest.

"Woah, hey Tubbo, I'm here. Be careful with me."

"I--I thought you were... I thought you were dead!" 

"I was just gone for a few days, don't--"

"You didn't tell us that you were going! You would've told us if you were going anywhere beforehand, you wouldn't scare... you wouldn't scare me like that!"

Four months ago, Tubbo would've been glad to have him gone. It was odd how quickly things could change.

"Alright, I'm sorry. Something happened, and... well, I had to have a talk with somebody. I'm okay."

""I... I don't even... just please, try not to disappear again. It scared me really bad, I thought I was going to have to do all of the government things myself and I don't know how, I thought everything was going to go wrong again and I didn't want it to! I didn't... I didn't want to disappoint Wilbur. I just want L'Manberg to work... work _one_ time. Just once. I want Wil--Wilbur to look down and be proud of me that I'm doing what he couldn't--and I know that he isn't my brother but I kind of feel like he is, and I miss him too... And Tommy misses him and it hurts a lot. I think he hated me a bit before he died, but before he got bad he loved me. And I m-miss that person." Tubbo had started to hyperventilate, and he cut himself off, trying to slow down his breathing again. His frame shook.

Dream stood there for a while, letting him cry and gently patting his back in an attempt to comfort him. He couldn't help but feel a sense of guilt for letting all of this happen in the first place; it was only right to be here for him now, and to explain.

"Tubbo, I should've told you this a while ago, but Techno... I never defeated him. He promised that he'd leave us alone for three months, and then come back to see how it was going. Everything was fine, but he... he ended up kidnapping me. It's a long story, but it was technically an accident. He was trying to 'negotiate with force', which was basically just hitting me to get an honest answer about the internal health of the country, but he didn't realize that I'm not in the... _best_ physical condition right now. He took me back to his base while panicking because he thought I was dead. But now, everything's fine. Techno isn't going to hurt us anymore. It's over. We can finally have peace, Tubbo."

"... Wilbur said that L'Manberg was his unfinished s-symphony... and that it wasn't ever going to be finished. Do you th-think I finished it?"

"You finished it, Tubbo. This is the country that Wilbur was dreaming of, back before he died, and back before he went mad. This is a special place now, and it's because of you."

"But you helped a lot, it wouldn't be here without you... Maybe you should be in charge, you've done so--so much more than me--"

"Listen. Maybe I would be a better leader, but also, this isn't my position to fill. I would serve no real purpose, because this was never my country. I never fought for it, I never bled for it, I never watched my friends die for it. All I did was let your brother die. I did not earn the title of president, Tubbo, _you_ did. L'Manberg is _your_ finished symphony. You carry its heart and soul."

"Wilbur... Wilbur died for me, I think. Died because of me--"

"No. Stop trying to blame it on yourself. You aren't responsible for everything. Everything that's happened isn't your fault. Wilbur didn't die for you, he died because he couldn't bear to see himself exist anymore. Life can be excruciating, and I could tell that it was excruciating for him."

"... I wish he wasn't so sad--" Tubbo choked out, and then started to sob again, "I-I wish... that he wasn't so... a-angry before he left... "

"I know, Tubbo, I know. It's hard to see somebody you love go through something like this."

"It's really... really hard," Tubbo murmured, and then he choked out a few more quiet sobs. It hurt so, so much to listen to him weep, but Dream didn't leave him while he let it out, just stood and let him get snot and tears all over his hoodie; it needed washing anyway, he didn't mind it. 

Finally, Tubbo seemed to have composed himself, and he pulled away, wiping at his eyes with his suit sleeve. Dream gave him a kind smile, and it was at that very moment that he remembered he had never asked Techno to give him any of his things back.

He was standing in the middle of L'Manberg with no items, and more importantly, no mask.

_Goddamnit._

* * *

All things considered, nobody made a particularly big deal of his appearance. They were much more concerned about learning why the hell he'd just disappeared for two days without a word, which, granted, did make sense. 

By the time Phil came bearing his items, apologizing for his and Techno's forgetfulness, Dream didn't even care enough to put on his mask. Everything had fallen apart when he took that damned thing off for the first time, but it had all done so in the most perfect kind of way.

Because, in the end, he wouldn't give this up for anything. 

Finally, it felt as if he was free. He had nothing to fear anymore; everybody knew who he was, there was peace, and there was happiness. Somehow, something so incredibly insignificant as his heat suppressants failing had led to this. Maybe there wasn't such a thing as miracles, but there was always a silver lining to things. And this, in Dream's opinion, was one hell of a silver lining.

That night, he went to sleep still smiling, and for once, he had no dreams. The morning was perfect and clear, just right for the festival.

He was worried that perhaps everything would go horribly wrong at the festival, as things tended to go at L'Manberg's events, but thankfully, it went without a hitch. It was a day of celebration, of new beginnings, and of honoring the old. But before the festivities could begin, the president had to give a speech. 

For the first time, Dream sat in the audience, surrounded by the citizens of a nation he had once despised. And with the flags of two countries flying behind him, Tubbo began, speaking with a confidence he hadn't carried before.

"I'll keep it brief, because I know we all want to just start celebrating, but I have to give a speech, because... Well, this whole thing wouldn't be possible without Dream.

"I never thought I'd say that, but the world is a crazy place sometimes, huh? Y'know, I really thought that, once I became president, everything would be over. The last thing Wilbur said to me before he died was just... mockery. He told me I couldn't make it, that I had no skill as a leader, and that I had nothing to lead at all. And while that wasn't the Wilbur I know and care about speaking, I think I've proved him wrong, anyway. 

"I don't totally understand why Dream just... stopped fighting us one day, but I'd like to think that he found kindness in his heart again. Let's be real: being evil kinda sucks. I've had to do some pretty evil things in the past, and they really weigh on you. So I'm really, really happy that we've all been able to overcome the parts of us that tell us that harming others will bring us to greatness, because here, we can see that the opposite is true. Collaboration, caring, and empathy has brought us to this impossible future. No one has to feel loneliness any longer, nobody has to feel like the only part of themselves that will be recognized is the worst part.

"But I'd like to thank Dream again for this. For all of this. And I'd like to thank all the rest of you for sticking with this country through thick and thin. Because of everyone here today, we're going to have the best damn festival the world has ever seen, and we're going to enjoy it!"

And god, did Dream enjoy it.

He wasn't a perfect person by any means; there was still so much baggage he carried, so many pieces of him that were far from being _right,_ but he sure as hell was a better one, and that, in his opinion, was something to celebrate. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> well, that's a wrap on the first big story arc! and now that we're here... are we actually going to get some fluff? are people going to be happy for once? are things going to go right? well, i'm here to say that they will indeed. 
> 
> mostly.
> 
> as always, thanks for reading, and kudos and comments are much appreciated.


	18. act IV, scene I

"Tommy, you are so bad at this! Give me that spruce wood, you have no eye for design--"

"I have plenty of eye for design, thank you very much, bitch! Look at this!"

"Sorry, but it's ugly."

"No it is not--"

Once Tubbo started screaming, Dream decided it was probably time to go see how well the progress on his new house was going. He hadn't wanted to make two teenagers do all of the work of building, but Tubbo completely refused to let him help in any way, insisting that he go relax and that 'the two of us will take care of it, don't worry'. At this point, though, Dream was definitely worrying.

Thankfully, neither Tubbo nor Tommy were bleeding, but Tommy was holding up a netherite axe with a threatening gleam in his eye. While the house that they'd been working on looked fine so far, the state of the team building it was not in the same shape, obviously. 

"Hey, I'd appreciate it if you didn't kill each other while trying to build my house," he said, with a slight humor in his tone. He stepped into the clearing that they made, and Tommy immediately lowered his weapon, turning to grin at Dream sheepishly.

"O-Oh, hey! I'm not going to kill Tubbo, nope, not me, I would never! Hey, if you have so much of a problem with our work, why not just do it yourself?"

"Well, I would, but Tubbo won't allow me to."

"He's a child! Well, I'm also a child, but you know me, I'm a big man, actually. But why does his opinion matter? You're Dream! Just look over to Tubbo right now and say 'listen here, little man, I'm Dream and I'm gonna build my own house.'"

"Tommy, I'm right here... and anyway, this is a... a display of our alliance! We're building Dream this house next to L'Manerg, and we're also doing it for him, just so everybody can tell how much we like each other! We're pals now, right Dream?"

"Yeah, sure." The real reason was because at nearly five months pregnant, Dream's hip pain had gotten severe enough so that he couldn't make the trek from his old home to the other nation without a struggle, not to mention the fact that he had a hard time catching his breath. Since he came by nearly every day to help Tubbo with running L'Manberg, he decided it would be best to just move closer. Having a baby was incredibly stressful and uncomfortable in so many different ways, and Dream was willing to do anything to ease some of the pain, even if it meant letting two under qualified teenagers build him a mediocre home.

"Okay, _fine,_ we'll both finish your house and I _won't_ kill Tubbo--I wasn't going to do that in the first place, of course, but I'll let him do whatever shitty designs he wants and it'll be fine--"

"Your idea of a house is Techno's basement!"

"I have a real house now, thank you very much," Tommy shot back. He went back to building, and so did Tubbo, although they continued bickering the entire time; it was better than them physically fighting, at least. Dream went back over to the small sitting area that he'd set up for himself, and busied himself with reading an old novel he'd gotten from Wilbur. 

The sun started to set soon, and Tommy and Tubbo went back to L'Manberg to sleep, leaving Dream to spend the night in the framework of a house. It was drafty, and the night was unpleasantly cold; it wasn't their fault that they hadn't finished, but Dream really wished they had.

It was nights like these, where the cold seemed to seep into his very bones and all he could do was stare at the ceiling, waiting for sleep to finally come to him, that the darker thoughts he normally could repress crawled out from where they hid. The month since L'Manberg had secured its safety had been fantastic, almost dream-like, but that didn't mean that Dream wasn't still haunted.

And he had a new beast to face now. Coming to terms with his past was a process that was going well, but his self image seemed to get worse every day. It wasn't his hybrid nature; he often forewent wearing his mask these days, deciding that it would be for the best to present himself as he was, but it was everything else about his figure that got distressing. 

He'd hated his body for as long as he could remember, really, even before he learned he was carrying a baby. He felt so comfortable as a man, he liked everything about it really, but being an omega took some of that away from him. He just didn't have the right parts between his legs, he had bird's nests resting in his hips, his body sloped and curves in the worst places. 

These weren't _his._ This baby was made by him, but it wasn't truly meant for him, it was meant for somebody else. Maybe there was an alpha out there that wished they had Dream's body, and god, if they could switch, he'd do it in a heartbeat. All he wanted was to be able to look in the mirror and not feel like he was going to be sick. All he wanted was to feel at home in himself.

And now, everything he hated was worse. His hips were getting wider, and it hurt so damn badly that sometimes it felt like they were cracking in half; his waist had been very slim before, even as an omega, and it needed to get so much bigger to support his baby. His toned abdomen that made him feel just a bit more _right_ was now _gone._ And the organs hidden by his thighs that he tried so, so hard to forget about now bled nearly once a week, reminding him that they were there, undeniably, unforgettably.

His body reeked with imperfections, and now, it was a monument to his own self-hatred. 

Of course it hurt. Of course it hurt to feel like this all the time, and he wished so badly that he could look the way he knew he was supposed to. He hoped that this baby was worth it, because he was going through _hell_ for it. 

At least he wasn't alone. But even though he knew he was surrounded by new friends and old, there was still something missing, _someone_ missing that his body craved more than anything else. 

George.

He'd had the same argument with himself so many times now, but he always came out with the same answer: George would not be a part of his child's life. Sure, he could see it, he could spend time with it, hell, he could even call it his own, but he wouldn't raise it. Dream didn't know if he could handle it; George loved him, he was pretty sure, but Dream didn't love him back. Separating hard-wired biology and executive thinking was difficult, but he'd finally come to realize that he was no lover. 

If Dream let George share the responsibility of raising their kid, then it would inevitably end in heartbreak and guilt. No matter how badly the primal part of him begged for the protection of an alpha, he would continue to deny it, because _damnit,_ he didn't need protection. He was born to be submissive, but he sure wasn't going to let the circumstances of his birth make him into a coward. 

He wasn't going to bend to anything, he was going to keep doing what felt right to him. Fuck the past, fuck the things that had gotten him here, because he was past that. The old him probably would've cried over it, would've tried to plead that maybe he'd feel differently, but no, he wasn't that person anymore. _That_ was a coward, a coward who cut himself off from everything in his life for something so abstract and self-destructive as control. 

But now, he was tired, and he was done contemplating his life for the thousandth time. He had better things to do with his time, like sleep. He didn't need to sleep much as a hybrid, but it sure as hell was nice to get a full night's rest.

Unfortunately, he did not get that, as he was woken at sunrise by the sounds of Tommy and Tubbo bantering while they finished building his house. He wasn't sure how two people were able to be so incredibly noisy.

He quickly slipped on his armor, stepped out of the house, and almost ran right into Tubbo, who was standing at the doorway.

"Woah! Hi Dream, why're you up so early?"

"Well, let's just say that I don't think I've ever heard somebody make a house so noisily before."

"Oh, we woke you up? Sorry." Tubbo scratched the back of his neck, sheepish. "We were hoping to finish building before you got up, but..."

"Eh, it's fine. I'll go get more supplies for you so that you can finish up today, and it won't happen again tomorrow morning."

"No, no, no, you're not going to go chop any more trees, not after last time--"

"Tubbo, I will be fine, I'll be much more careful."

"I have plenty of wood in my house at L'Manberg, go get that instead."

"Dream's a bloody beast, Tubbo, why're you trying to stop him from getting wood?" Tommy asked, looking up from the crafting table he was currently working at, "And anyway, what happened 'last time'? 

"Don't worry about it, Tommy. Tubbo just worries about me too much."

"Actually, I heard people talking about you, because Niki said she was worried about you. Are you pregnant, Dream? I heard somebody say that they thought you were. It seems a bit ridiculous, honestly, but I want to know."

"O-Oh. I didn't..."

Honestly, Dream couldn't say that he was too surprised. He was obviously showing at this point, it wasn't like he could really hide it under his hoodie anymore. He just didn't expect people to be so concerned about his health to talk about it when he wasn't around.

"I mean, they're right."

"Wait, wait, wait, you're actually pregnant? What the hell? I just thought everybody was making things up, y'know?

"Do I not look like I'm going to have a baby?"

"Well, I mean, you do, but I didn't wanna be rude. King of being nice, that's what they call me."

"It was nice of you to not assume anything, but I'm confirming it now. I'm five months along at this point, it's not like I can really hide it."

_I wish I could. I'd rather not have to think about my body right now._

"Uh... well, congratulations if you're happy, and if not, then... sorry? 

"I'm alright, don't worry." And while he really wasn't, he wasn't going to tell a child about the dysphoria he was feeling. This was the kind of issue that he just had to deal with himself, and even if he wanted to talk about it, he'd go to somebody like Sapnap.

"Can I meet the baby once it's born? I want to teach it swears."

"Tommy! You can't teach a baby how to swear, that's not good for it!" Tubbo exclaimed, sounding much too distressed about the concept. Dream couldn't help but laugh.

"He can teach the baby swears if he wants, I'm sure it won't understand any of them. I don't think it'll do any harm."

"I'll start early, actually. Prick, shit, bitch! Uh... fuck! Are you listening to me, little man? I've got a good one: pussy."

"Okay, that's enough shouting, ugh... I'm going to let you two finish building, and I'll go get the wood from the chests. I'll take it easy, Tubbo, I promise." And with that, Dream set off to L'Manberg, leaving Tubbo and Tommy to argue with each other about whatever topic they decided to disagree on next.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> most of this arc is basically just "hey, gender is confusing!". dream gets to be sad some more, but things go right this time. until they don't, of course, but hey, we'll get a baby by the end of it...
> 
> kudos and comments are appreciated, as always.


	19. act IV, scene II

The nightmares, regrettably, were back. Maybe it was just the fact that he'd moved into his new house a week ago and his body didn't like the change, but whatever the reason, he'd wake up every morning with a scream dying on his lips and sweat sticking him to his bedsheets. These dreams were even more formless than the ones before; all he could recall from them was a burning pain between his legs, and a growling, like wolves were tearing him apart. Sometimes, he picked up the metallic stink of blood. Other times, he smelled his own scent of aster petals, and choked on it, like liquid filling his lungs. 

He just wished he could escape from it, in all honesty. It wasn't fun to fear sleep, wasn't fun to wake up exhausted every single morning, wasn't fun to try and act like himself when he felt so strongly disconnected from the body that carried him.

It was frustrating, at this point; everything was going so well around him, so why was he still stuck in his own head? Something was holding him back, something was keeping him from fully being able to enjoy the life around him, but he was too tired to think about it anymore. Growing a baby was hard, hard work, and so was helping run a country. He didn't have time for his long, insomnia-ridden nights of contemplation right now, all he could do was go home and collapse on his bed, no matter how scared he was of his own mind. 

At this point, he'd rather be busy than bored and philosophical. He didn't like the part of him that looked at life as a cynic, and at the moment, he was trying to find ways to hate himself less.

Things were going great in L'Manberg, at least. Mostly for other people. Tommy, apparently, was completely to keep any information private, and everybody now knew about his pregnancy, and they'd congratulate him or ask about how he was doing as he walked past them. Again, he knew the news would get out eventually, but he didn't like the stares that he was getting. He remembered something he'd mentioned to Tubbo ages ago, something about not liking to be perceived. 

Of course, there was a reason, and with every reason came a memory. He just didn't want to relive that memory at the moment. He was tired. Instead, he walked the clean, well-built pathways of L'Manberg, trying to remain content with what he had.

It was hard to enjoy himself when a glance downwards at the swell in his abdomen would result in an immediate sense of revulsion. God, if only he could get used to this. 

"And I just can't."

Of course, he always came running back to Sapnap. Sapnap had his own life, his own things to do, but he still took time out of his day to listen to Dream vent about his life. They hadn't gone to the beach to talk for a while, and it was much-needed. Maybe Dream relied on one person in his life too much, and he spent too much time bottling things up. Ruminating in your own negativity wasn't a very good way to make life enjoyable, after all.

"Dream, I... I'm sorry, man. I'm sorry that you're going through all this. I know you're trying really hard to be a good person, and you're doing great. It shouldn't get in the way of your own mental health, though."

Dream slid his fingers over the surface of his mask, sitting so heavy in his hands. He blinked tears out of his vision, letting them splash onto the ceramic. 

"What else am I supposed to do? It's so easy to be a bad person, I-I can't... I can't slip again. I'm trying so hard to enjoy the life that I have now, but I'm just... I'm always on edge. Something is weighing me down, I don't know what it is but it just makes everything feel so impossible."

"Y'know, I think I might know what the problem is. You need to talk to George, dude."

"No. I'm not fucking talking to him about anything! He's the reason I'm like this, I can't just..." Dream immediately regretted lashing out, letting the vitriol leave his words in exhausted streams. This was what happened when you repressed everything; the badness came out whenever it pleased.

"You can't just what? You can't be vulnerable?"

"I can't be weak in front of him, Sapnap! I can't be his damn omega bitch, I don't want him to hurt me, I don't want him to... I don't want him to be so important to me."

"George is our friend, he's not going to do that to you. You talk about 'being more than your instincts' all the time, and yet you seem to think that George is nothing but some power-hungry alpha. You don't have to be 'his omega', you can just be _friends._ I know it seems like everything's changed so much, but we can go back to being the same three dudes we always were. There'll just be a fourth, smaller dude inside of you, and then outside of you eventually."

"When you put it like that, it sounds easy," Dream sniffled, resting his chin on his knees and setting down his mask in the sand.

"I know it's not going to be _easy_ to talk to George, but it's pretty simple. Just go tell him how you feel. Tell him that you forgive him."

"But what if I don't forgive him?"

"Do it anyway. Maybe you don't mean it now, but you'll mean it eventually. Forgive him just like you forgave yourself, and I promise you that you'll feel better. George isn't the reason you feel so bad about your body, that's the bad brain bits telling you that having extra inches around your waist makes you less of a man, for some reason. You're not less of a man because you've got a womb or something, you're just _you._ I know you don't believe me, but it's true."

"... How can you do things like that? Just like... read my mind and shit," Dream said with a wet chuckle. Sapnap always seemed to know exactly what to say, and he didn't take it for granted.

"I've been your friend since forever, I just _know._ Now, go out and find George and strike up a conversation with him. You're both mature adults, you're going to get this worked out." Sapnap gave him a firm pat on the back, and then stood, bidding him a quick farewell and going off to continue whatever work he had been doing before Dream had begged for him to come to the beach and talk. 

He really did need somebody else to talk to, or at the very least, he needed these feelings off his chest. However, he knew he still wasn't ready to see George, not yet. He needed to know what he was going to say, and at the moment, his mind was a mess of thoughts and emotions, all clouded over by a haze of exhaustion. He had to go rest, collect himself, and soon, he'd be ready. 

Soon, he always told himself that, didn't he? _Soon._ This time, he'd finally do it, though. Now that he had Sapnap's advice--which had never failed him in the past--he felt prepared. But not yet. Soon.

He went back to his previous work of fully moving into his new house; he slept there now, but some of his supplies were still at his old home, and he'd spent the last week moving things over in small loads as he slowly and carefully constructed himself a storage room. Tubbo and Tommy hadn't made it big enough, and it took a lot of work to expand it--he was taking care not to overexert himself, though. He'd certainly learned his lesson on that, and while it was taking him much, much longer than it should've to get this project done, he didn't really mind. It was nice to have something to occupy his time that wasn't politics or leadership. 

But of course, he had to talk to George. He couldn't forget that, lest it slip his mind and he continued to make excuses until the end of time. And each passing day, his urge to just get it over with grew stronger, until finally, he caved, and after a full day of making chests and item frames for storage, he marched over to George's house, mustering up every bit of confidence he had.

He knocked on the door, and waited.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i remembered that i never actually shared what the title of this fic is; one of my favorite artists is jordaan mason, and this is one of the titles of the songs in their band's singular album. they're also a solo artist, but i like jordaan mason and the horse museum's general vibe a bit more. go give them a listen, they write great music that explores the transgender experience in great depth.
> 
> speaking of the trans experience... i am trans (as the tags imply quite heavily), and i am writing this not as a kink or anything but because i think it's a very interesting topic to explore. this is one of the most ridiculed tropes, and i just... wish people would realize the real-life implications of writing stuff that says that transmasc people having children is inherently sexual. i wish that mpreg tag on my fic was not a marker of shame, but alas, it is. i don't know if i really expected anything differently from such a young fandom. eh, it's fine. anyway, that ends another one of my tiny endnote rants, and as always, kudos and comments are appreciated.


	20. act IV, scene III

"... Why are you here again?"

There was a sharpness to George's tone, an annoyance that stung like a whip to his back. Dream grimaced, and spoke.

"I'm fucking sick of this, George."

"Sick of what? Me? It's okay, you can just go ahead and say it. I've been waiting for it."

Dream remembered when they met. They were young and naïve, promising each other with little fingers linked that they would be friends forever. Dream, George, and Sapnap, the world's most tight-knit team until the end of time. How _fucking_ stupid of them to say that. It only made this hurt more now.

"I won't cry. I've already cried enough before, if that's what you're worried about."

George sounded angry, but so, so defeated. Dream didn't even know what he was feeling; an emptiness, like his heart was torn out. He stepped inside the house, and George let him in; they'd stood in the same places, before. He hated that it was familiar, this tension between them.

"I didn't come here to do that."

"Well, what did you come for? You haven't talked to me in at least two months, and I know you're pissed at me. It's all my fault things went wrong. Don't remind me again. I've spent enough nights staring at the wall, trying to sleep, and thinking about how I could've done it differently. I just don't know how to say the right things, I'm just an idiot with a shitty personality. Now, tell me. Tell me you hate me. Tell me it's over."

"I won't."

"Goddamnit, just... say it. Hate me so that I don't have to feel guilty anymore."

"I'm not pissed anymore. I can't... I can't be angry anymore. I don't hate you."

"I got you pregnant. I ruined your life, all because I couldn't control my own body."

"George, I was fucking terrified when I learned I was having a kid, but now... now I'm not. I think I was mostly worried about turning into my mother. I know that I won't, though. There are too many good people around me for that to happen. I'm just glad that I can bring a child into a world that will love it, and even if I'm not sure I can say I truly want it, I know I'll come to regret ever even thinking that in time.

"I shouldn't've been so bitter about it for so long, I think that's what I've taken away from this. I understand if you can't forgive me for that. I just wanted to see you again, and say that I forgive you. I want to be your friend again."

_"I want to be your friend!"_

_Dream and Sapnap had met this strange boy only minutes ago, when they were out in the woods foraging for food, and yet, he was already trying to follow them along. They weren't little kids, you couldn't just insist on being somebody's friend._

_"How good are you at fighting?" Sapnap asked, tapping the point of his blade against the ground. The boy immediately brightened, and drew a small dagger from a sheath on his belt. It looked like it was made of gold, and it shimmered with enchantments. Dream gasps, fascinated immediately; he'd never seen something enchanted so up-close before. He'd always wanted to go mining to get the materials for an enchanting table, but every mine they came to wouldn't let them go in, since they were so young, and they weren't strong enough to make their own._

_"I think I'm pretty good, y'know. I got this after winning a fight with some warrior. She was really strong, and she did... well, she did beat me, I guess, but she said I was an honorable and strong opponent and gave me this. I got some diamonds from her too, but I don't know how to make a weapon with them."_

_"Woah, that's pretty cool," Dream said, moving closer to inspect the blade a bit closer and throwing all caution to the wind._

_"You can tag along with us, I guess, since you say you're good at combat. Dream knows how to make a diamond sword, so we can use the diamonds for crafting one!"_

_"Come on, we set up camp about a mile from here. Follow me... uh, what's your name?"_

_"George."_

How long ago had that been? It felt like yesterday, and years ago at the same time. Dream's life in his own mind was a confusing, nonsensical jumble.

"... Why? Why are you apologizing to me? Why... why now?"

"Why? There's so many reasons, George. I... I was worried I wasn't right for you. I've always wondered if you loved me, and I know that I can't provide that for you. I just want you to be my best friend, I don't... I don't think that lover is the next step. Relationships don't follow some sort of set path, I think they can be whatever we make of them, and as long as you're okay with us as we are, I'm okay with it too."

"... Best friend? How... I just don't understand how I can be that to you anymore. I was a deadbeat for months. I never once tried to comfort you. I'm just..." The tears began to fall, streaming out from behind George's glasses. He mumbled a curse. "I said I wasn't going to cry, but that's because I prepared for something else. I thought... I thought it was over. I thought all of it was over and I just... it was too much."

"I told you I needed space, of course you stayed away. Of course things seemed like they were over... but they aren't. It's just... new. There's a baby now, and it's ours, and it's okay."

"I don't know if... if I'm really okay, though. Why didn't you talk to me for so, so long? What scared you away from me? I just... you seemed so much happier, working with L'Manberg, and you seemed happier the further away from me you got. You told me about the baby, and then you just... drifted away, and I watched you get better without me. Was I the thing that made you hurt? I really... I really don't know if I want the answer. But I think I need it."

"It wasn't you. It hurt me, actually, to leave you. I didn't... I didn't want to lose you, but I was scared, not of you but of who both of us are. I'm an omega, you're an alpha, and I just... I thought you'd try to own me. I thought you'd force words of love down my throat, make me into a damn object or something, turn me into the 'perfect mate', and I couldn't stand it. I fucking couldn't."

"... I wouldn't do that to you, Dream."

"You wouldn't do that to me, I know. Sapnap reminded me that I didn't have to be afraid of you."

_Dream had nightmares a lot, so many that he woke up wailing in agony most nights. Sapnap was used to it. George was not._

_He was wrenched from sleep from a scene of complete desolation, a battlefield littered with his own corpse, dismembered in so many ways. He had choked and gagged on the stench, had nearly vomited each time he stepped out one of the bodies and heard it squelched beneath his feet, but he couldn't stop walking. Wakefulness was an escape, but he couldn't get it out of his head._

_He didn't want to die like that. He couldn't bear the thought._

_"Dream!? Are you okay?" Sapnap, as usual, was still asleep, but George had bolted up, and was looking at him with wild concern. Dream tried to say he was, but instead, his breath caught in his throat, and he fell into George's arms, sobbing. He'd known him for a week, and here he was, at his most vulnerable in front of him, alone._

_"Hey, it's going to be okay... it was just a bad dream, alright?"_

_"I-I... I died i-in it... I die so-so much, I die every night.... I'm s-scared, I..." Dream gave up on trying to speak, and let the tears come, not fighting it. George held him until he fell back into sleep, repeating the same thing over and over again._

_He'd never felt a comfort quite like that before._

"You've always been a comfort to me. I don't know what you see me as, but you're... you’re like gentleness, and kindness, and some sort of love I never got as a kid. Our friendship fell apart the second I tried to be afraid of you."

George didn't speak, only let out a strange, whimpering sob, and clenched his fists hard.

"I don't want to lose this, goddamnit. I am not losing one of the best people in my life just because my heat suppressants stopped working. I'm not going to let my biology take you away from me. I said I was more than the parts between my legs, and I mean it. I'm more than aster flowers, I'm more than a baby, I'm more than an accident, I'm _me_. And I want to make things right."

Dream remembered the worst parts of his life a lot, but he also remembered the good. He remembered lazy days down by the creek one summer, when they'd splash around and relax in the shade of the willow trees. He remembered telling stupid ghost stories around the camp fire that would always devolve into laughing fits and stitches in his sides. He remembered bandaging George's wounds while Sapnap bandaged his own, and they explained their bravest moments in whatever fight they'd just had. He remembered cooking mushroom stew and everybody having to feed it to the horses, it was so bad. He remembered hours of travelling filled with all kinds of conversation, quick duels with wooden swords, a thousand jokes that made no sense, and a million ways of saying 'I love you'.

And of course, he remembered founding the Dream SMP. On a cloudless afternoon, they grabbed their supplies and friends and built a community home in a lake, for them to build a nation around. Dream had never been good at building, but with George and Sapnap by his side, it was fun anyway.

Everything here was because of them. He couldn't lose that. 

"D-Dream, I don't get why you're s-such a good person. I want t-to hate how genuine you are, but of c-course I can't... I can't."

_"Hey Dream? Can I ask you a question?"_

_It was late, and Sapnap was still out hunting. Dream and George lay on the ground on their backs, stargazing, and even though it hurt, it was worth the pain. The sky was beautiful, full of so many stars that it seemed impossible. The universe was vast, but here they were, looking at it together, and it felt less daunting._

_Dream didn't feel alone, despite the awareness of how small he was. He had his two best friends, and that was enough for him._

_"Mm? What is it?" he replied, words slightly muddled with tiredness._

_"What's under your mask? I've never seen."_

_"... Sometimes, I don't know if I remember myself. I don't think I really want to."_

_"So you're hiding?"_

_"Yeah, I am. And I'm okay with that."_

_They sat in silence for a while longer, listening to the faint sounds of each other's light breathing and the drone of cicadas in the trees._

_"Hey Dream?" George asked again. Dream sighed lightly, not in annoyance but not in a contented way, either._

_"Yeah?"_

_"Promise me that you'll show me, one day. I want to see your face."_

_"Mm'kay. I'll show you one day."_

_And he meant it. He didn't know when, but he would. He trusted George._

_He trusted his friends more than he trusted himself._

"I couldn't hate you, George. I know you couldn't hate me either, even if I threw you in a ditch and left you to die. But I wouldn't do that to you, of course."

"And th-that's why you're my best friend," George said with a weak laugh, and then stepped forward, collapsing into Dream's arms. Dream caught him, and there they stayed, clinging onto each other like little kids in a big, vast, frightening universe, who knew they had each other. 

And then, somebody started pounding on the door. Dream pulled away, startled by the sound, and immediately went over to go open it. 

"Let me in, bitch! I gotta tell you something right now!" Tommy's voice, filled with an unusual urgency, rang out from the other side. The second the door was opened, he stumbled inside, nearly face-planting on the wooden floor. "We've got a big, big problem, George! And also Dream, I guess."

"Me and him were in the middle of repairing our friendship, so whatever it is had better be more important than that," Dream muttered, looking over to George, who was furiously rubbing his eyes to pretend like he wasn't crying. 

"Well, I'd say it's pretty damn important! Technoblade's at L'Manberg! He's just fuckin' standing there all scary-lookin'! Dream, you gotta go kill 'em!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ugh, i had so much work to do today. i'm going to go take a nap now, i'm exhausted.
> 
> kudos and comments are appreciated, as always! even if i don't respond to your comment, keep in mind that i read every single one of them, and each one means so much to me. i'm just bad at interacting with people, and i don't always know what to say in response.


	21. act IV, scene IV

"Dream, you gotta go kill 'em!" Tommy shouted, sounding both angry and so, so scared. Dream couldn't help but feel guilty, but he didn't answer.

"Hey Dream? Big man, I want you to go do that please, it's very important to me and my friends. I promise I won't do anything dumb for a whole week if you go kill him right now."

"Tommy, I am going to politely remind you that I am five months pregnant. What do you think I'm going to do about this? And anyway, he's not going to try to hurt us. It's fine."

"What do you _mean_ he's not going to try to hurt us? All he ever does is come over and beat the shit out of us and then sometimes give me things like golden apples, but actually I took those--that doesn't matter, actually, but he's really, really evil, you know."

"Don't worry, he's not _evil,_ although he never was. You do know that people are very, very complicated? Techno was only trying to protect you in his own strange, violent way. But I digress. I actually invited him to come live in L'Manberg a while ago, and I think he's finally taking us up on that offer."

"You invited him to live _here?"_

"Well, yeah. He's going to get lonely and bored out there in the middle of the woods."

"You're fuckin' crazy, man!"

"Does it seem like he's trying to destroy anything right now? Where's the sounds of withers getting summoned and people screaming, eh? See, it's fine. He doesn't want to do any harm. He's just a guy."

"Y'know, that is the first time I've ever heard somebody say that Techno is 'just a guy'. I think you're awfully bold saying that, but you know what? I'll take your word for it. Come with me and talk to him, and then I'll believe it."

"Sure thing. Come with me." And with that, Dream and Tommy left to go to where Techno was apparently 'wreaking havoc', leaving George to compose himself at home.

The walk was a short one, but even that had Dream out of breath. Thankfully, he was very much correct in his assumption that there was no fighting, and the highly dangerous war criminal was currently surrounded by a loose circle of citizens, aiming crossbow bolts and swords towards him with menace. He had his hands raised in a placating manner, a nervous smile on his face.

"... How many times do I need to say that I really don't want to hurt you guys? God, where's Dream when you need him? These guys are insane, let me tell you--Oh, there you are. Get over here before they beat my ass for existing, man!" Techno noticed Dream as he approached, and immediately lowered his hands, looking much less worried. Dream finished his slow trudge over, parting the crowd like Moses parted the red sea, until he was standing in front of the other.

"So, you finally took me up on that offer to come to L'Manberg, eh? Welcome."

"Well, I don't feel very welcomed right now, not gonna lie. I show up and immediately everybody starts freaking out! Like come on, I didn't even do anything."

"You blew up our nation with fucking withers! You've tried to kill all of us multiple times! You almost took out my goddamn eye! I think we're pretty justified, personally," Quackity called, voice dripping with anger and disgust. 

"Okay, I know that was all pretty bad, and I'm sorry about that. I wish I'd realized that... well, that you didn't really realize what I was trying to achieve by doing that. Listen. All I've ever seen L'Manberg bring is pain. When Dream joined your side, I thought it would just end up the same way again, because that's just what this place is like. Obviously, though, I've seen that isn't the case. And while I know I really messed up in the past, I hope that maybe, just maybe, I can try and help you guys out to make up for it?" Techno flashed another awkward smile, and slung his axe over his shoulder; it didn't make him look any less threatening.

"... You're saying that you... that you want to be a citizen here? And you want to live here?" Tubbo asked, sounding genuinely confused.

"Err, well... I guess, if it's what you want, heh."

Everything about Techno's demeanor, tone, and body language silently begged to be let in. He knew what loneliness looked like, and this was true desperation. Being so nonchalant about it certainly wasn't helping his case, though.

"How do we _know_ we can trust him?" Quackity, of course, was resistant, but everybody else seemed to have become less aggressive. He strode forward, fixing Techno with a nasty glare and setting his hands on his hips. 

"I know we can. About a month ago, I had a talk with him and Phil, and at the end of it, I invited him to come here. It's lonely out there where he lives, and sitting by himself in a cabin all the time isn't a good way to become a better person. Consider this rehabilitation."

"So you want Techno to live here and learn how to be a normal person again?" Quackity questioned, sounding slightly less angry, but still menacing. He let his axe's blade drop to the ground, thudding loudly as it lodged itself in the dirt.

"When you put it like that, it makes me sounds kinda stupid..." Techno muttered. 

"Well, if you're willing to try and integrate with society again, and you swear that you won't harm our nation in any way, then you can begin the process of applying for citizenship." Tubbo also lowered his weapon, which was enough to cut some of the tension in the air. 

"I like the sound of 'integrate with society' a bit better... uh... well, I mean, sure. I'll apply for citizenship. How long does that take?"

"A few days. I guess you'll need somewhere to stay that's near here until then... huh."

"You can live in my house, it's right outside the borders," Dream offered, gesturing vaguely behind him towards the direction of it. Techno nodded slowly, and then, without any hesitation, started walking, headed exactly where he'd pointed.

"It's pretty tiring to have crossbows aimed at you for twenty minutes, so I'm going to go set down my gear there and take a nap. I dunno what papers I need to sign, but I'll do whatever I need to do to be a citizen. This place seems pretty cool now, not gonna lie."

"Err, well, I'll get somebody to bring you the forms later today, and I guess you can go to Dream's house for now."

And with that, everybody dispersed, the crisis averted. Dream helped lead Techno to his house in silence, out of breath and exhausted; he needed to take a nap as well, he was tired after two confrontations. It was a welcome relief seeing the small clearing where he lived, and he threw down his armor and tools before helping Techno get a bed and chest set up in one of the extra rooms. 

"Man, I thought it was over for me back there. I guess I should thank you for getting me out of that, huh?"

"Eh, it's fine."

They both fell silent as Techno finished throwing his things into the chest and setting his armor on the ground next to his bed, easily accessible. He was always on guard, even now. It was sad, in a way, but Dream knew it was just a habit at this point for him. It used to be a habit for him, too; fear was a familiar emotion to them both. 

"Uh... how are you doing? Y'know, with the whole baby thing and all. I assume it's... alive in there."

"Yeah, I'm alright. It's still growing, still kicking, all the normal baby things. I feel a bit like shit all the time, but I'll be fine."

"That's... good. I don't know much about kids, they scare me." Seeing one of the most fearsome warriors in all the lands admit that he was afraid of children was funny enough to get a chuckle out of Dream. He pulled a whetstone out of a chest, and sat down on his own bed to start sharpening his tools while Techno crafted an armor stand for his things.

"They scare me too, don't worry. People like us aren't great with them, but I've got to learn to take care of one. I'm not ready for it to be born, but also, I am... it's confusing." Dream passed his blade over the stone, enjoying the familiarity of the metal ringing. 

"Well, all I know is that I wouldn't want to be in your position."

"Sometimes, I almost say the same thing, but then I realize that I wouldn't be here without this baby. I wouldn't be talking to you right now, and L'Manberg would probably be gone at this point. Embrace serendipity when it ruins your day, I suppose."

"That's nice. I wish... never mind. I don't feel like oversharing, it's not really my thing."

"You don't have to talk. It's nice to just be quiet sometimes."

And so, they spent the rest of the evening in comfortable silence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> shorter chapter for today, i just didn't really know what to transition to after that. we've got one more chapter of relaxation, and then... well, things don't go well.
> 
> thanks for reading, and as always, kudos and comments are appreciated.


	22. act IV, scene V

As promised, the process of becoming a citizen only took a few days for Techno. After that, he was free to leave Dream's house and go settle within L'Manberg's borders, and that was exactly what he did. He packed up his things, and set them down in a random clearing near the central lake; the messy chest array didn't make the landscape look any nicer.

Dream had the privilege of walking past it on a daily basis, and for a whole week, he appeared to be completely homeless, and then, a small, shitty tent popped up. The very next day, Dream got to witness an argument between Techno and Tommy over it, which was entertaining, but also sad, in a way.

"I thought you had a house in the woods!? Don't you know how to build, you dumbass?"

"Err, well, y'know... I got help with that, and now I don't really have any help, so..."

"This tent is fucking ugly, that's all I have to say. It makes my house look worse."

"Your house isn't even near here!"

"The ugliness of it permeates through the atmosphere. Do you know what 'permeate' means? Well, let me tell you, big man, it--"

"I know what permeate means, and that makes no sense."

"It makes plenty of sense, bitch. Your ugly little tent makes my beautiful mansion look worse."

"Don't you live in a pile of dirt?"

"It's not the building blocks that matter, Techno, it's the spirit of it. My house has very good energy. This does not, it's just lame. I'm going to get Tubbo to evict you, and then you'll be homeless like Dream is, and then I'll laugh at you for being stupid."

"Tommy, let me remind you that I have a house. You built it for me," Dream interjected, finally deciding to step into the conversation. Tommy screamed, and turned to look at him, which got an amused snort out of Techno.

"H-hey Dream, how's it going, buddy? I wasn't talking about you, yep, not me. I'm the king of being nice, remember?"

"I've been standing here for the last few minutes, don't think you're getting away with that. Anyway, Techno, if you want any help building a house, I can provide it. I don't have much to do these days."

"Hey, Tubbo says that you're not supposed to do any sort of work, and as his best friend, I'm going to remind you about that. Think about your little guy! He's going to die if you build Techno a house, you know--"

"... I can assure you that my 'little guy' will not die if I build a house. That's not what I was offering to do, anyway. I think I've gotten pretty good at exterior design at this point, so Techno, if you'd like any sort of guidance, I can help direct you. Won't take more than a day to set up a quick home, and you can expand it whenever you need more space."

"It took me and Tubbo two days to build you a house, Dream, I think it'll take him longer than that."

"It took you two days because you spent half of the time arguing and trying to kill each other over where you thought flower pots should go. Techno is also much stronger and more efficient than you."

"Are you calling me weak!? I'll have you know that--"

"Tommy, there's this cool thing you can do called 'shutting up', and I'd suggest doing that before I hit you over the head with my axe. I'll risk my citizenship for the sake of you not nagging me all day," Techno drawled, amusement glittering in his eyes. Tommy stuttered, immediately backing up with his hands raised, and mumbled out a frantic apology.

"O-okay, I'm sorry man, I won't bother you ever again. Well, I can't make that promise, actually, but... actually, I'm going to go do work, I think that's a pretty good idea right now. You have fun building your house--it'd better not be ugly, or I will be _very_ upset. I'll come over and nag you until you fix it, oh I'll nag you _so_ much you'll... you'll die, actually. Death by nagging, that's what it'll say on your gravestone."

"Sure I will," Techno muttered, and then began to sort through his chests, pulling out various building materials. Tommy ran off to go do whatever job he'd been assigned, and Dream took his place, telling Techno some key items that he'd need to make his house look better than just a wooden shack. He crafted fences and trapdoors while Techno laid down the foundation, showed him how to make frames for his windows and door, and they chatted the whole time about whatever topics came to mind. The whole thing felt oddly familiar, like Dream was a teenager setting up a campsite with George and Sapnap again. 

He missed those days. It was nice to feel like he was back there, if only for a few hours.

As Dream expected, it didn't take long for them to finish building the house, and he bid Techno farewell after the exterior was done, leaving him to go put all his items inside. 

As he headed back to his cabin, he turned to look back at L'Manberg, his breath catching at the sight. The wooden houses sprawled across the landscape, each bearing the memory of the person who'd built it. In its obsidian home, the L'Mantree stood tall and proud, branches bearing the brightest green leaves. The lake glittered in the sunlight, splashes of color from the corals inside visible even from a distance. And the massive government buildings, flying the flags of both the Dream SMP and L'Manberg, seemed to glow, as if they were enchanted. 

It was spectacular, and Dream had helped make it happen. This body of his that he so despised had brought greatness upon the nation, and he couldn't hate it for that. This baby inside of him that he'd once been so terrified of was a blessing. 

The sun was beginning to set, but Dream decided to stop and sit on a hill overlooking the town, and reminisce on everything. He was feeling nostalgic; maybe it was just hormones making him emotional, but he didn't really care. 

The memories came easily, looking at this sight, and they weren't unwelcome this time. He remembered when the area was covered in trees and the only thing there was a tiny van full of brewing stands, and he regarded it with amusement. He remembered when the walls were put up for the first time, and Wilbur stood, looking so proud of himself and his fledgling home. He remembered, quite faintly, Sally, and the way Wilbur's eyes would light up when he spoke of her. After that came Fundy; Wilbur seemed so tired all the time, but in a proud sort of way. Fundy was his perfect little girl, and L'Manberg was his perfect little nation.

Then, things changed. Wilbur started getting ideas, writing things long into the night. Dream felt his amusement turn to bemusement, and then to annoyance. New people came and went to the SMP, and then came a family: Tommy and Tubbo, so young and impressionable. Fundy got his hair lopped off and it was clear that he was never a daughter at all. The children grew up, L'Manberg declared independence, and a war began on the soil of a once peaceful nation.

Dream regretted it now, of course. He could still remember his anger and bitterness, though, and he wouldn't forget it for as long as L'Manberg stood. If he did, he risked letting history repeat itself. Once again, he would carry the burden of the past, if only to make the future brighter.

One day, he knew it would fall, as all civilization did. But for now, he could enjoy it, and do everything in his power to ensure it remained.

* * *

The rest of the month fell away, and Dream checked off the day that he reached his sixth month of pregnancy. His body ached at the mere thought of it. Before, the idea of having a baby was just a vague, far-off landmark, but now, five months after he'd learned of its existence, he knew it was imminent. There were preparations to be made, things to get, and more to learn. He still didn't know how to take care of a child, which was why he ended up asking Phil to come help him set up a nursery and hopefully give him some information as well. 

To his surprise, Phil showed up with Techno in tow, who looked like he'd rather be anywhere else in the world.

"Uh, hello Phil... and Techno." He greeted them, standing in the open doorway as he tried to figure out what they both were doing there. Phil chuckled, and then stepped inside, practically dragging Techno in with him.

"Techno needs to face his fears as part of rejoining normal society, and I thought that this would be the first step."

"... Face his fears?"

"Phil, I'm not scared of children, how many times do I need to bring this up?" Techno complained, shifting awkwardly on his feet. Phil shook his head.

"You absolutely are. A week ago, when I came to check on you and see your new house, you said, and I quote, 'Phil, will I have to babysit Dream's weird baby when it's born? It scares me, I don't want to have to touch it'."

Dream snorted, hand brushing over the swell of his abdomen. "I think it's pretty obvious, Techno."

"Well, you can't blame me, man! Babies are small, and all they do is scream. They can't take care of themselves! They're completely useless and helpless... ugh, it unnerves me. I don't know why I have to come learn about them, but if knowing this is somehow going to make me a 'good citizen' then I guess I'll sit and watch you two talk for a while." And with that, Techno sat down cross-legged on the floor and stared at Phil and Dream.

"Err... well, what did you bring me here to talk about?"

"Everything, I guess. I don't know what I'm doing, really, and I'm going to have a baby in three more months. I'm tired all the time. I have no clue what labor is going to be like, and I'm getting worried about it."

"Can't help you much with the labor part, but I can help you with the other stuff. You're going to need a nursery, that's something we can get set up ahead of time."

"... Alright, I'm going to need some help with that though, I don't know what to put in one. I've got an extra room open, it just needs stuff in it now."

"Well, you can make a crib, I'll give you the instructions on how to do it. You'll need some toys for them to play with, that's pretty easy to get worked out. A few little blocks of wood and some bundled up sticks will be just fine. Tommy loved messing around with those when he was a baby, I remember. You'll need some sort of food... Can't say I really want to talk to you about... the whole breastfeeding deal, I think we'll skip that... You can just give 'em warm cow's milk, just heat it over a fire until it's the right temp, not too hot, though."

"Yeah, no... Don't think I'd want to do that either, yuck," Dream said with a shudder. It wouldn't make his dysphoria any better, and it grossed him out to think of even trying to do that. Cow's milk would have to do.

"Past that, all you really need is some diapers. Just get some cloth and pins, that's all. I can show you how to do it once the baby's born, I think I remember how to do it, but it's been seventeen years, give or take, so I may be rusty. Really, all you need to do with a baby is change its nappy, let it sleep, and then feed it when it cries. Worst part is waking up in the middle of the night to feed it. Newborns need to be fed every few hours, that's very important."

"Every few hours? Jeez..." Dream muttered, head already spinning from the information. Phil said it was easy, but it sounded pretty daunting to him. 

"Eh, you'll do just fine, I promise. And I'll always be here if you need any help, son. Now, let's get the nursery set up, and Techno, you're going to help, okay?"

"Fine, I'll help," Techno mumbled. He didn't sound like much of a warrior when he was like this, sulking and nervous. 

"You'd better help, and pay attention too. Dream might need you to watch the baby at some point, you know."

"Urg... Couldn't you get somebody like Ranboo or Eret to do it? Sapnap? Niki? All of them would be better at it than me, I promise."

"The first step is learning, Techno, and you need to get the fundamentals down. Taking care of a baby is the best way to soften a man."

"I don't need to be softened, I'm doing just fine in L'Manberg right now, aren't I?"

"You nearly killed Tommy because he was annoying you. Multiple times. I think you need to reconsider that answer, bud," Dream interjected.

"Okay, fine, maybe... Fine, I'll take care of your kid, now let's go build a crib or something."

"That's the spirit, son!" Phil said with a warm smile, and with that, the three of them got to work repurposing Dream's spare room.

And somehow, it completely slipped his mind to ask Phil about the blood still dripping from between his legs, that had never quite stopped since that day chopping wood so long ago. A problem that had revealed itself so long ago that it was almost normal.

A problem that was completely forgotten.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh ho ho. a new act starts tomorrow, and at the end, there may just be a baby. if only somebody knew what was wrong... well, thanks for reading, and kudos and comments are appreciated as always.


	23. act V, scene I

Something was wrong. Very, very wrong.

Maybe Dream should've realized it earlier. He should've realized it the second the bleeding started, he should've realized it the second that the cramps got worse, he _should've realized._

Now, he clutched his abdomen as so much bright red blood dripped on the floor, everything inside of him tensing violently. This wasn't a new occurrence, but it had slowly become more and more prominent until he could no longer try and deny it by calling it a normal symptom.

This was not normal. People didn't bleed like this when they were ten weeks away from having a baby that was going to come out the normal way.

"Fucking... shit, fuck, what is happening," he muttered to himself, wiping away the blood with a rag as it came. It had already gotten on his sheets, trailing from his bed to the wall, which he was leaning against now as his stomach heaved once again. He groaned in pain, but stayed on his feet.

Was he actually miscarrying? No, the blood wasn't clotted or chunky--that was a disgusting thought, indeed, and he nearly hurled just thinking about it--it was thin and pale, but it was still _there._ Was he going into labor? No, this wasn't what it was supposed to feel like, and anyway, he was so far from the due date, not even eight months yet. Nothing in any of Wilbur's books told him what it might be, he hadn't asked anybody but he doubted they would know either, and he didn't think there was any way for him to be able to tell.

Goddamnit, he really wished somebody in the SMP or L'Manberg was a medic, but most people only had rudimentary knowledge of how to bandage wounds or clean cuts to avoid infection. This was unknown territory, and Dream was mapping it; fuck, he really wished he wasn't.

His legs finally gave out from pain, and he slid to the floor, too exhausted to try to do anything about it anymore. If he bled to death now for seemingly no reason, well, so be it. He rested a hand on his abdomen, now heavy with his child, and tried to steady his breathing. It kicked, and he grimaced.

"At least you're fine, fuckin'... ugh..." He shut his eyes, and kept breathing, in and out, slowly. Eventually, the blood stopped flowing, and the pain faded into a familiar ache; Dream hauled himself to his feet, gasping. His legs shook, and he could barely drag himself over to his bloodstained sheets before collapsing, too tired to even try to clean anything up. 

He fell asleep almost instantly, and of course, he dreamed, as always. It wasn't an escape from what he'd just experienced. His legs were tied down to the floor with thick cord, bright light shined in his eyes, and above him stood a figure in red goggles, smiling down at him like a maniac. He thrashed against the restraints as the knife lowered towards him. He couldn't escape. 

He could never, ever escape.

His vision flashed white, and the blade dug into him, past flesh and sinew, snapping the tension in his body. He screamed as the blood ran heavy on the table around him.

Life was the antecedent to death. Death was the antagonist to all life. Of course, Dream was terrified. Of course, something was wrong.

He woke up tangled in his stained sheet, panting. It wasn't unusual, not for him, but there was somebody here this time, looming above him, voice frantic.

"Christ, Dream! Wake up, what the fuck happened to you?"

Sapnap. Sapnap was here. Dream turned his wild and dazed eyes to him, choking on his own breath as he tried to explain what had happened to him. He wheezed out something incomprehensible, and started sobbing, reaching out to grab his friend's shoulders, as if they could somehow stabilize him. 

"S-Sapnap, I... fuck, I..." 

"Shh, no, wait to talk until you can do it without crying hysterically. Get it out, buddy, get it out."

And he did. He wasn't sure how long he cried for, but Sapnap was there the whole time, reassuring him until he could finally speak. He wasn't even sure where to start; the dreams he had just experienced danced vividly in his mind, but no, that wasn't where it had started.

It had started with the blood, and a realization. 

"Something is... something is really wrong. I don't know what, but..."

"Well, obviously something's wrong, there's blood everywhere! I walked into your house because I heard screaming, and I see this... goddamnit, I thought you were dead. I thought somebody had murdered you, fuckin' hell... Don't blame yourself, I know you can't help it. Just... go ahead. Sorry."

"I-I... I don't know, I just woke up in the middle of the night and I was bleeding from _down there._ The baby is fine, it's still kicking and everything, but god, I wouldn't stop bleeding. I got so tired, I just... sat down and I almost accepted the fact that it was over for me, but then it wasn't, and I crawled into bed and passed out. I had these dreams, oh fuck, they were so... I died in the dreams, and..."

"They're just dreams, you're not dead and you're not dying anytime soon, man--"

"No. I've had these... premonitions two times now, I'm not going to brush them off again. I dreamed of fire sparking in my stomach, and I went into heat and got pregnant afterwards. I dreamed of being dragged away from home, into the ocean, and Techno kidnapped me afterwards at the beach. Now, I'm dreaming of my stomach being cut open, and--I'm going to die, I'm going to die Sapnap, I..." Dream broke down sobbing once again, clinging to Sapnap with all his strength. He knew he couldn't save him, but god, he didn't want this baby to be his death sentence. He didn't want the one thing that had given him everything to take it all away.

The universe couldn't be that cruel, could it? It wouldn't taunt him with happiness only to tear it away, would it?

"Dream, listen up. I am not going to let you die on my watch, okay? You and this baby are going to be fine, and even though I have no clue why the hell you're just bleeding down there, you're going to make it. We'll give you however many health potions and golden apples it takes. Just... however many weeks until you're due, and then, it's going to be fine."

Dream sniffled. "Ten weeks," he mumbled pathetically.

"Ten weeks. That's not that long, is it? Now, let's get you cleaned up, and I'll get a potion for you to drink just in case." Sapnap hauled Dream out of bed, and set him down on the floor. He got to work rinsing off the sheets, and he told Dream to go out and take a bath, which he did after getting some food in him. His dysphoria was worse than ever, certainly, now that he was heavily pregnant, but he felt too dirty and gross to try to refuse. He rinsed off all the dried, coagulated blood, and his ratty old hoodie as well. It didn't take him long, and he slipped back inside in dripping wet clothes, sitting down next to the fire that Sapnap had lit to dry off. Sapnap himself was also next to it, sewing up a tear in the sheets that Dream had made at some point. He'd always been good at needlework, and Dream's clothes were still damp by the time he finished.

"Feeling better?" Sapnap asked, folding up the now-clean sheets. 

"A bit, I guess. My body hurts."

"Do you wanna go back to sleep? You look pretty beat up, you could probably use it."

"I have a meeting with Tubbo today, I can't miss it."

"... Okay, let me rephrase what I said before: you look like you're on your deathbed, so go sleep. I'll go tell Tubbo that you aren't feeling well, and I'll come back to tell you what he's rescheduling it to."

"Fine, I'll sleep," Dream grumbled, and moved back over to his now-clean bed. He was exhausted, and he passed out in what felt like seconds the second his head hit the pillow. Thankfully, he didn't dream anymore; he didn't think he could take that.

He couldn't watch himself die one more time. He'd seen it enough times, and he was damn sick of it at this point. He didn't want to die anymore, but the moment he started to believe in his own worth, his life was put in danger.

_If only things could just go right for once... fuck, I'm just an unlucky person._

* * *

He told people that it was fine, and that the last few months of his pregnancy were going swimmingly. That was a lie, of course, but it wasn't like he was going to tell people that he had been bleeding through most of it, and that it was now so bad that it nearly killed him.

It happened again a few days later. This time, Dream knew what was going on, and just reminded himself to breathe until it passed. He chugged a regen potion, cleaned up his clothes and sheets, and went back to bed, facing the inevitable nightmares with nothing more than quiet resignation.

Sure, he could've gotten Sapnap again to help him, but he was too tired to. He stared up at his ceiling, mind swimming, and tried to ignore every sensation in his body, as if he could just turn it all off. Almost nine more weeks, and then it would be over. He'd be okay soon.

It was hard to tell himself that, though. Oh, did it hurt. 

He remembered a time when he'd wished to ram his pickaxe through his skull and end his life. He'd been living in misery for so long, so why shouldn't he just take it all away? And maybe the afterlife was better, in a way. He wouldn't know if he never went there. 

God, he couldn't contemplate death like he did before. He wanted to live, but not like this. Not when he was slipping back into old habits, lying instead of seeking help, nearly dying and telling nobody, and of course, wondering what he'd find after his life was over in too much detail.

He held his pickaxe in his hand the night that it happened for the third time, and his legs were coated with his and his baby's blood. His hands gripped the wood of the handle, almost swinging it to hit bone. He looked down at his abdomen to remind himself what he was suffering for. He'd come too far to just give up now, he was going to make it, goddamnit, him and his baby both.

It was hard to deny temptation, but he set it back down. He wasn't dying tonight. The bloody fingerprints on the grip would server as a reminder of how close he'd gotten, and how he had to distance himself from that.

God, he was alive. Nine more weeks to go, and he was still breathing.

Tubbo noticed, of course. A lot of people noticed. He came into L'Manberg looking like he'd crawled out of his grave, which was not a very good look for somebody carrying a child. He tried to smile, but it didn't reach his eyes, and people could only give him concerned stares back. He dodged the topic of his baby again and again, knowing that there may not be a living one soon. He reminded himself that he was going to be fine. It was all he had left, really.

The bleeding was just routine, now. Just get used to it, and soon it would be over, for better or for worse. He was going to be fine.

It was going to be fine.

Because, at the end of the day, he still had people around him that cared about him. They'd do their very hardest to care for him, baby or not. He had a good thing, and he wasn't going to just give up now. His body was just doing what it was built to do, weaving a tapestry it knew the pattern to. It shouldn't be too hard.

And then, he hit eight weeks left. That meant he was in his eight month of pregnancy, too, and now the end really was in sight. He'd learned most of the stuff he needed to take care of it, he had some of the things he needed, and he was close to being ready. It was a bit easier to tell himself it was going to be fine at this point.

He walked into L'Manberg feeling strangely refreshed, and even though walking had started to become a slight challenge, he had a spring in his step. He didn't have any errands or anything to do that day, other than a meeting with Tubbo to discuss Techno. He'd been doing very well in the nation since he'd been welcomed there, and Dream was very glad to have given him a home.

The capitol was as polished and clean as ever, but now, it felt more lively. Dream greeted Quackity on his way to the staircase, and he passed Fundy carrying a stack of blueprints out the door. Today, he was able to give them a smile that felt a bit more genuine, for once.

Tubbo was waiting at his desk at usual, and he seemed to notice Dream's good mood immediately. He grinned as he took a seat, and immediately pushed over a stack of reports with no lack of vigor.

"Hey Dream! You look good today, I'm glad to see you looking better! Sapnap told me about how you were sick a few weeks ago, and you haven't really been yourself since then, until now, of course. You had me worried there."

"Eh, it wasn't anything I couldn't handle. I'll live. Everything's just a bit more difficult these days."

_That's the understatement of the year..._

"Well, whatever you need, I'll be here to provide it! Anyway, I don't wanna make you stay in this meeting for too long, so here's the census on Technoblade from all the citizens. Tommy... was not very serious in his, so just disregard that one, but I think it'd be good to read through the rest of them--wait, are you actually okay? You look..."

Dream winced, and then quickly tried to school his expression. He had started feeling a strange sort of pressure in his hips that morning, but now, it felt worse. It wasn't anything he'd felt before. "Just some hip pain. It's normal."

"Oh, okay! Well, you can read through these real quick, and I'm going to go make some more paper for some more forms while you do that. Have fun, I guess?"

"Heh, I'm sure this'll be _really_ fun," he muttered. He shifted in discomfort, trying to ignore the pressing sensation, and got to work.

But maybe he should've learned his lesson about ignoring things. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> well, this is unfortunate, isn't it? if you know a bit about pregnancy and its complications, you're probably freaking out right now. if not, you're just confused.
> 
> next chapter's not going to be a fun one.
> 
> anyway, thanks for reading, and kudos and comments are appreciated, as always.


	24. act V, scene II

The second Dream got home, he sat down on the edge of his bed, and groaned. It felt like a fist was squeezing his lower abdomen, tightening painfully, only to die down after a few seconds. It had been happening all day; he had been so busy that it hadn't been more than an afterthought ghosting around the back of his mind, but now that it was just him, it didn't feel like that anymore.

He normally spent his evenings doing something productive, like brewing potions or making food for the next day, but today, all he did was lay down on his side and try to sleep. 

For about fifteen minutes, it seemed like everything was going to be fine. And then, it happened again, pain radiating from his stomach, settling in his back and thighs. He counted the seconds before it faded, each one feeling excruciatingly long.

"I am not going into labor. It's too early," he muttered to himself. These just had to be phantom contractions, there was no way it was the real thing.

There was no fucking way. Labor didn't even progress this fast, he was being ridiculous.

_But haven't I been feeling like... this all day? And hasn't it gotten worse?_

Dream had spent enough time denying and ignoring things. If he was really in labor, he shouldn't try to just go to sleep, that would be the worst possible idea. He sighed heavily, and then shifted out of his bed, propping himself against the wall with an old wool blanket underneath him. As an afterthought, he picked up a broken diamond axe he'd cast off in a chest, and took only the handle with him. Something to bite on if the pain got too bad, he supposed. Hopefully, this was just a scare, and he'd be fine. He knew he couldn't hope that everything was going to go well, though.

No matter what was going to happen, though, all he could do was wait. And so, he did, staring at the wall in front of him and letting his mind wander wherever it pleased.

He didn't really think about much, really. He just prayed that everything was going to be okay, and that his baby would live. He paced each breath, counted the seconds, and waited. He was a man of action, not of patience, but all he could do was be patient this time.

He knew he should go get help, but he was too tired to try. The dreams he'd been having where he bled to death wouldn't leave his mind, though. This was where he may just die, and at this point, he resigned himself to it. As long as the baby made it and somebody found it, that would be alright. He could feel it kicking, lower down in his pelvis than usual, and took comfort in it.

He was scared, yes, but that was okay. Embrace fear, embrace the unknown, and fall.

Another wave of pain washed over him, this time accompanied by blood mixed with some sort of other fluid. He hissed, gritting his teeth again it, and counted once again. It took too long to go away, that was all he knew.

"Jesus, fuckin'... You need to calm down, kiddo, it's not time for you to come out yet... But neither of us like waiting much, do we?" 

He didn't really want to accept the fact that he was in labor, but it wasn't like he could really deny it anymore. He was completely alone, he wouldn't stop bleeding, and he was probably going to die. He let that thought repeat until he was used to it; he was probably going to die, he was probably going to die, oh, he was going to die. 

It didn't sound all too bad once he'd said it enough times. He didn't imagine himself dying in this way; he was a warrior, so of course he expected to die in battle, but this was still honorable. Instead of taking lives out of the world, he was bringing one into it. That was a good thing.

Another contraction came, quicker than before, and lasting longer. He grunted in pain, and shifted his position, as if there was any way for him to be comfortable right now. His hips hurt and his abdomen hurt and his back hurt and his thighs hurt and _everything_ hurt--

But he had to breathe. In and out, no matter how shaky, he had to breathe. He closed his eyes, if only to ignore how much blood had already soaked through his pants and onto the cloth beneath him, and tried to calm down. 

Just calm down, and breathe. That was all he could do.

He wasn't quite sure how long he laid there, riding out worsening contractions as he kept bleeding in a steady stream. At some point, he had the mind to remember to take his pants off. There was some gross, sticky stuff in them that he tried not to look at; he already felt nauseous enough, and it wasn't helping the situation.

All he could do was sit and breathe and try to be calm. Three things, he could do that. But maybe he couldn't because damnit, it hurt a _lot._ Each time the pain came, it was worse, swamping all of his lower body and creeping up into his chest, making it feel like his lungs were being crushed. God, it was awful. His grunts of discomfort became loud groans, and then, choked wails. Maybe he just had a bad pain tolerance, but this was worse than anything he'd ever done.

The thought of 'I am probably going to die' became 'I am going to die', and he wasn't quite sure when it had shifted. He muttered it to himself after every contraction now, like some sort of mantra. 

He'd said the same thing a long, long time ago. It wasn't unfamiliar.

_"Fuck, I am going to die, I am going to die... I am going to die--" Dream was mostly incoherent, head swimming with pain and the effects of way too many shitty potions that Sapnap had tried to force down his throat. None of them could brew for shit, and it was clear._

_"George, can you fuckin' make something good for once? Dream isn't lying right now, he's losing a lot of blood," Sapnap shouted, voice sharp but wet with tears. He had tried to bandage up the jagged, weeping wound on Dream's stomach, but at this point, he was soaking through bandages so fast that it didn't even really matter what anybody did. All Sapnap could do was hold his hand and cry._

_"I'm trying! Maybe you should give it a try, since you're the person who got us into this whole mess! You saw those bandits and you told us to go rob them, after all," George yelled back, but there was no real anger in his tone. Nobody had expected that their latest battle would end so poorly._

_"I'm worse than you are, I'd probably kill him faster--anyway, just focus on making one good health potion and then we can pour it on the wound. It just has to not give him an infection, whatever it is..."_

_"Okay, I'll do better, I promise."_

_"... Sapnap, I can't... I can't see?" Dream's vision had started to fade, blackness creeping in from the sides. God, he was so tired. Maybe if he just shut his eyes for a moment, he'd feel better. The wound where the enemy's sword had ripped into his skin felt like molten iron had been dumped on it, it hurt so damn bad, and he just wanted to escape from it, if only for a moment._

_If only for a moment, if only he could just sleep..._

_"Do not close your fucking eyes right now, Dream! Stay with me, you are not dying because some shitty bandit with a shitty invisibility potion hit you with their shitty diamond sword. You are going to be just fine, and next time you're going to remember to wear all of your goddamn armor when you go to fight."_

_"... 'M... tired..."_

_"No you are not! George, please hurry, he keeps shutting his eyes, fuckin' hell..."_

_"I've almost got it, I promise! I remembered the amount of blaze powder this time, it's going to be good, I know it is..."_

_"He's... not good at brewing, y'know... maybe I should just close my eye...eyes... until he's done...and--and..."_

_"You are not doing that. You are not going to fucking do that to me, Dream."_

_"... M'kay, I won't..."_

_"I did it! Sapnap, fuck, I did it, the potion's the right color this time, now take it and save him, please do it, oh my god..."_

_George rushed over and poured the potion on the wound. Immediately, he felt bliss._

_After that, the bleeding stopped._

This time, though, the bleeding wasn't stopping. This time, he couldn't just pour a health potion on it and make things better. Maybe drinking something would help, but he didn't even have the strength to crawl over to his storage room and grab anything.

This time, it was over.

He wondered when the baby was supposed to come out. When he died, he had to at least have it out of him, but he'd been at this for a long time already and he hadn't even felt the urge to push. Well, maybe things would start to progress soon.

Or not.

Another contraction came. Maybe it was just because he was worn out, but this one felt like somebody had lodged an axe straight into his womb. He screamed this time, and bit down hard on the repurposed handle that he'd grabbed. A lot of blood came out that time.

God, he felt so weak. He could barely think straight anymore, a side effect of both the pain and the amount of blood he'd lost. His eyes were dangerously close to shutting, and he knew that if he went to sleep now, he wasn't going to wake up.

He needed a potion. He was so incredibly exhausted, but he was not going to make it if he didn't heal. And so, he took a deep breath, and changed positions to face the direction of the door to his storage room. It was mere yards away, such an easy trip under any other circumstances, but now, it was the most daunting task he'd ever untaken. He reached out with a trembling hand, and dragged himself forward, taking each inch of the journey at a time. 

He had to pause at one point when a contraction hit him, and he almost stopped there, in the middle of his floor, trailing blood and whatever else his body was producing, but he managed to muster up the strength to continue. 

Somehow, he made it. Desperately, he foraged through the nearest chest, pulling out a health potion. He downed the whole thing in a single gulp. He'd never had something better in his entire life. He still felt awful, but his head immediately cleared, and he had it in him to crawl over to the wall and sit against it in a much more dignified way. 

Of course, the misery came back quickly, with the next few contractions. He could see out of his window now, and god, it was nearly midnight, he'd been laying in his home for _hours_ and nothing was happening. He could vaguely remember hearing something about his water breaking, and he was relatively certain that hadn't happened yet. He wasn't even getting anywhere, he was just bleeding to death slowly, and to make matters worse, the baby was beginning to kick less and less frequently. They were both dying, and even if the health potions could help them hang on for a bit longer, Dream would soon run out. 

At some point, it would be over. He needed _somebody,_ not just _something._ At this point, he didn't even care who. Just one goddamn person who could help him, that was all. Sapnap, Techno, Niki, _anybody._

"Please," he whimpered, curling up slightly. He was so, so tired. Everything hurt. Nothing was happening. His mind was already going fuzzy again, and the urge to sleep was overpowering. He reached out towards his chests, but he didn't move anywhere, and his arm flopped onto the blood-covered ground in front of him.

_Just close your eyes, it'll..._

"Dream!?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for the cliffhanger. at least i upload every day, so you'll get to know what happens tomorrow, eh?
> 
> kudos and comments are appreciated, as always.


	25. act V, scene III

_"Dream?"_

_Dream's head snapped up, and he looked over to see Fundy, of all people, nervously shuffling towards him, holding his sword at the ready. He coughed awkwardly, and then spoke, voice trembling._

_"I know we didn't... really get along too well in the past, but... I'm just wondering if you have anything of Wilbur's? I... I'm trying to make him a memorial."_

_Now, this was interesting. Dream got up out of the chair he was currently sitting and writing in, and walked to the door to stand in front of Fundy. His ears laid nearly flat on his skull, drawn back so far with fear and grief, and his eyes were red._

_He looked so small, and so scared. He looked like a kid again._

_Dream knew he was an asshole. He'd nearly killed Fundy so many times, and he'd been the main reason that Wilbur had died. He had once been proud of these things, but looking at Fundy now, it was hard to be smug about the pain he'd wrought. He looked inside himself, and remembered who he was in the past._

_For one moment, he let the façade fall._

_"I don't have much, really. I have some things he gave me back when we were both young, that's all."_

_"... Could I have them?"_

_"Sure thing, Fundy." Dream walked over to his bookshelf, and pulled two things off of it: a locket and a worn book. The locket had been given to him on the night that Sally left, mere days after Fundy had been born. Wilbur had come to him, looking so defeated with a baby strapped to his chest in a sling, and had asked for Dream to keep it safe no matter what. It held a picture of Sally, smiling, looking at the photographer with Fundy in her arms. It was such a new picture, but it was already a memory. The journal had been given to him a few months after that, bearing pictures of a younger Wilbur, Tommy, Tubbo, and Technoblade. Dream made the same promise to keep it safe, knowing how much it meant to Wilbur._

_Even though times had changed and Dream's kindness had soured, he'd held onto the two items. He knew how much they meant, and he'd already broken too many promises. Now, Wilbur's son wanted them. Times weren't peaceful, but Dream knew it was the right thing to do, giving them away._

_"Here. Reminds me of when Wilbur was a different man, maybe they will, too. We both got a bit fucked in the head, I think. At some point, I'll relearn who I was."_

_"... Thank you."_

He could still remember the pain in Fundy's eyes. He could still remember how badly he'd been hurting after Wilbur's death.

And now, Fundy was standing before him, watching the life fade from another person.

"Dream, oh fuck, oh--oh god, I'll get help, oh..."

All Dream could do was moan in pain as another contraction ripped through him. At that point, he probably would've just closed his eyes and accepted his death if nobody was there, but now that Fundy was here, he forced himself to remain conscious. Fundy had watched too many people die, Dream couldn't do that to him again.

_We both got a bit fucked in the head, I think. At some point, I'll relearn who I was._

And he had. He was a better person now, and he couldn't lose that. Fundy couldn't lose the nation that his father had built for him again. L'Manberg's walls were put up to keep him safe, and even though Wilbur as everybody knew him was gone, Dream had spent the last months of his life making sure the nation remained.

As long as he lived, Fundy would have a home.

"... Get Sapnap... or Phil," Dream forced out, once he was able to speak again. Fundy nodded furiously, but hesitated, still staring in horror at the blood splattered all over the floor, and at Dream, lying in his storage room while bleeding out.

"What's happening...?"

"The baby... is coming. It's early. It's not... going right."

"I-I... Are you... No, I have to get them, you're right.

"I'll be right back, please just... hang on until then." And with that, Fundy tore out of the door, leaving Dream to fight for his life for a bit longer. 

* * *

When Fundy had heard screaming, he hadn't expected to be faced with _that_ scene. He hadn't been able to sleep that night, and had eventually decided to take a walk through the woods, lacking anything else to do; he'd picked up the sound of pained cries, and worried, he followed the source to Dream's home. He'd thought that maybe he'd find him injured or something, but upon opening the door he found him lying amidst pools of blood, heavily pregnant, and looking like he was minutes away from death.

But he could go get Phil, that was something he could do. Phil lived close to here, it would only take a minute to get him. He tore off towards L'Manberg, heart racing, and prayed that Dream would be okay until he got back.

_I can't lose L'Manberg again. God, please don't die._

The second he got to Phil's door, he started banging on it as hard as he could, shouting his grandfather's name with desperation thick in his voice. He heard a disgruntled 'what?' from inside, and then, then, Phil poked his head out, frowning in confusion.

"Ph-Phil, something's wrong..."

"What is it, son?" he mumbled.

"Dream is... I don't know what's wrong, but he told me that he's having his baby--but he's bleeding everywhere and he's dying, I think--"

Immediately, Phil jumped into action, rushing back into his house to grab a myriad of supplies. He shoved some random items into Fundy's arms, and then, with a silent nod, gestured for Fundy to follow him back to Dream's house. The run back was short, but it felt excruciatingly long; they knew they were close when they heard a long, drawn-out wail of pain in the distance. 

"Christ, how long has he been at this," Phil muttered, and Fundy shrugged as well as he could with the burden in his arms.

"I don't know, I just stumbled across him a bit ago and... I couldn't tell, but it seems like it's been a long time."

Phil cursed under his breath. "The baby could be dead if it's been too long. Let's hope not, though."

They made it to the door of Dream's cabin soon enough, and Phil threw it open, rushing inside with Fundy right on his tail. He was exactly where Fundy had last left him, lying against the wall and covered in his own blood. He looked up at Phil with panicked eyes, gasping.

"Dream, you are kind of an idiot, but I'll remind you later. Can you still feel if the baby is kicking?"

"Y-Yes, it's... alive... but neither of us... are doing... very well..."

"Okay... okay. I can work with this. You and the baby are going to be just fine, I promise. Now, let me adjust your legs, and I'm going to do my best to get them out, okay?"

"Just... do whatever you need to do... fuckin'... get it out."

* * *

Phil was here.

Dream wasn't sure what would've happened to him if Fundy hadn't found him, but at least he had help now. Phil knew what he was doing, thank god. 

With no dignity left, Dream allowed Phil to do whatever he needed to do. Whatever got both him and the baby out of this safely was fine with him. Some sort of potion that tasted like mint and swamp water was poured down his throat, he was given another health potion to drink, and Phil carried him back to his bed, which was a much more comfortable place to lay than the floor. 

"You had the right idea, getting this stick to bite down on. I need you to keep that between your teeth, and whenever the pain gets too bad, you know what to do. Now, this is going to be a bit... awkward, but I just need to..." Phil reached down and did something that Dream couldn't feel and didn't care enough to ask about. "... okay, you're fully dilated. You just need to push, okay? You're hemorrhaging, at least, I'm pretty sure you are, which means we need to get the baby out as quickly as possible. The next time you have a contraction, just push as hard as you can."

Dream nodded wordlessly, too tired to say anything. With bated breath, he waited for the pain to return, and mustered up the last of his strength that he knew he'd be needing.

God, he was ready.

And then, it hit. Oh, did it hurt, but he clenched his teeth, and with a guttural cry, he pushed with a primal strength he didn't even know he possessed. He pushed until the contraction passed, giving him a brief reprise where he could catch his breath. He immediately had to lean over the side of the bed to be sick, retching up nothing more than bile, and he heard Fundy gag in the corner out of sympathy. 

"That was good, very good. Just a few more of those and we'll be golden, son," Phil said, while toweling some of the sweat off of Dream's forehead. 

Just a few more. He could do this.

Pushing gave him something to do, something to focus on other than his fear and pain. When it came time again, he gave it everything he had left in his battered, ruined body, and pushed. He choked on his own breath and started to sob; he was surprised he hadn't started crying sooner, or maybe he had and he just hadn't noticed, but the tears streamed down his face now. He felt like a mess and he knew he looked the part, but he didn't care, not at this point.

He was almost there. Fuck, just a little bit longer and everything would be okay.

His mind felt foggy, and he wasn't even aware of the time anymore. All he knew was that his body was doing what it had been made to do, and it was doing it well. One more push, and he faintly heard Phil say something about a head--oh god, it burned, and in one more push it was over, there was the sound of weak crying--

"He needs to deliver the placenta, but... Fundy, we need to stop the bleeding or Dream is going to die--just let me handle the baby and you can fix him up, do it quick..."

Dream looked up, vision spinning, and saw Fundy above him, holding another potion; he'd had a lot of those, but maybe he needed another. He let it fill his mouth, trying not to let it spill but some dripped out anyway, and swallowed. He wasn't even sure if it made him feel better or not, he felt too detached from his body.

Something still hurt. He felt so incredibly empty, but managed another push anyway, and something else came out. Fundy screamed. 

"What the fuck is that?"

"It's just the placenta, now cut the umbilical cord with something, just use your sword--"

"My sword!?"

"Yes, just anything! I need to move the baby over here and the cord isn't long enough, and that damned placenta is the reason Dream's half-dead now, christ..."

Dream's vision was still incredibly warped, but he could make out Fundy moving to the foot of the bed and doing something. There was so, so much blood everywhere. How was he even still alive? 

"Is the baby alright, Phil? It's crying a lot..."

"Yeah, this is just what babies do... it's breathing quite fast, I'm not exactly sure why... But it's alive. Well, _she's_ alive."

_She's alive._

"... Can I see her?" Dream murmured. He shook his head in an effort to clear it, and then looked over to Phil, who was busy drying off his child with a rag. _His_ child. His living daughter. 

"Oh, uh... sure." And then, Phil came over, and handed him his baby.

She stopped crying almost immediately after Dream took her in his arms. He wasn't quite sure how to hold her, but she seemed fine where she was, nestled against his chest. She was so tiny. Her eyes, already open, looked just like his, inky and deep and full of the void. Her skin was flecked with darkness. She looked like his daughter.

He wasn't quite sure what he was supposed to be feeling right now. He was sure, at least, that he was proud.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ah, it all turned out alright in the end, didn't it? at this point, i'm not quite sure where the story will go, but in an effort to make it to 60k words and have this be the length of a novel, i'll be here for quite a bit longer. there's still quite a few things to do, anyway.
> 
> kudos and comments are appreciated, as always.


	26. act V, scene IV

He decided on the name Elk, after a bit of consideration. It had a nice ring to it. It didn't really mean anything to him, but names didn't always need to have some sort of deeper meaning or connections, not in Dream's opinion, at least. 

His daughter Elk, tiny but fierce. 

The day after she was born, the word got out that the SMP had a new citizen, and a few people showed up, timidly walking through Dream's door with quiet greetings and soft expressions. The first to arrive were George and Sapnap, of course. His two best friends, with him until the bitter end.

"Hey, Dream!" Sapnap called, and before Dream could even see him, he could hear the grin in his voice. He was practically dragging George with him, who was complaining about Sapnap tearing a hole in his shirt sleeve. The second they saw Dream, lying in his bed with Elk cradled in his arms, they quieted down, shuffling over with much more grace than they'd entered with. Sapnap put a hand over his mouth, already tearing up, and George just stood and stared, completely stunned.

"Hi guys... uh, meet my daughter," he greeted back, giving them an awkward grin. He felt strange, stuck in bed like this, but he was still weak after the horrors of yesterday, and there was no way he was going to be able to actually walk.

"Oh, she's... woah, look at her eyes! They're just like yours," Sapnap said with a surprised chuckle, leaning over to look at her more closely, "I didn't know that babies opened their eyes so soon, huh."

"Me neither, I don't know if she's really... fitting the norm, y'know. Anyway, you can hold her if you'd like."

"I can? I mean, sure, I'd love to."

Dream nodded, and then handed Elk over; Sapnap seemed to light up the second she was placed in his arms, and he giggled with a childish sort of glee. "I've never held a kid before, oh man! This is so exciting! What's her name, by the way?"

"I named her Elk. I thought it fit, I guess."

"... That's a good name," George murmured, stepping forward towards Sapnap. In his arms was longing, as if he wished to reach out and touch her, but he hesitated. Dream remembered their angry conversations, the months of avoiding each other, and his silent promise before they repaired their relationship, where he vowed that he'd raise his child by himself.

But this was his daughter too, her blood and bones made from pieces of him. He could love Elk just as much as Dream was learning to, find joy in parenthood even if they weren't a couple. 

"George, you can hold her too," Dream whispered back, voice suddenly failing him. For some reason, the whole thing made him want to cry. It hurt, but it didn't, and he was so happy but so sad at the same time. His emotions were as confusing as ever, and he once again wished that they just made _sense_ for once, so he could know the right words to tell George what he was feeling right now.

"Yeah, you can hold her! Here, put your arms like... like that, yeah, and then let me just..." Sapnap gently raised Elk, and then George took her in trembling hands. At first, he held her far away from his body, but with some encouragement, he brought her to his chest. Tears dripped down his cheeks, and his mouth was still agape. He was just as confused as Dream was, it seemed.

"God, I don't... I don't even know what to say. I don't know what to do with myself," George muttered, "she's just a baby. She's just... she's just our d-daughter."

"She's our daughter," Dream repeated, fighting back tears of his own. He loved her, of course, but he also loved the past, and his heart ached for simpler times. A decade ago, they sat around campfires and told stupid jokes. A decade ago, they got into idiotic battles and almost always triumphed in the end. A decade ago, they were kids.

Now, they were adults, and those times were long gone. Growing up was a painful, painful thing. 

"Don't get all... all sappy on me, you're gonna make me cry too," Sapnap mumbled, and then chuckled weakly. He silently retrieved the baby from George, looking down and cooing at her as if to distract himself from the current conversation. Dream let him do that for a few minutes, enjoying the sanctity of the moment, and then spoke. He loved his friends dearly, but it was hard to be around them right now, and right now, he just wanted to be alone for a while.

"I've got to take care of her, so I'd like to have her back now." 

"Oh, yeah, sure." Sapnap handed her over quickly, and Dream said goodbye to his friends, smiling as they waved to both him and Elk as they stepped out of the door. He'd let them come back again soon, he knew. Soon.

The next few people to come by over the next few days simply popped in to check on him and say hello to the new arrival. Techno was awkward, Ranboo was fascinated, Tommy was way too loud, and Quackity was serious, for once. It was nice to see all of them, though, even if it was a bit stressful at times. 

And then, Tubbo came.

It was late in the afternoon when he stepped through the door, still wearing his suit; he'd obviously just finished a busy day of work, and he looked exhausted. His appearance was rumpled, his eyes were tired, and his feet dragged. His eyes brightened when he saw Dream, though.

"Hi, Dream! How're you doing?" he asked while walking over, examining Elk, who laid comfortably in his arms, with curiosity. Dream put her in her crib to rest at night, but during the days, he liked to hold her close, just to remind himself that they were both alive. He whispered stories of his past to her, and fed her whenever she cried.

"I'm a bit better. Delivery was tough, but I think I'll be back to my usual self in a week or so. I hope to get back to helping you with running L'Manberg, I hate being stuck in bed like this."

"Don't rush yourself or anything, I don't want you to... to get hurt again. I already blame myself for enough, I wouldn't want there to be something else."

"Tubbo, I'm a grown adult, my decisions are my decisions alone. But you're right, I won't overwork myself again. I've learned my lesson."

Tubbo was quiet for a moment, and then, he sighed heavily, rubbing his forehead with a drooping hand. "Why do you always lie?"

"I-I... what? I'm not lying to you now, I..."

"No, not now. I mean, why did you lie all those other times? When I asked if you were okay and you said yes and then you _weren't._ I wanted to help you so badly because you'd helped me so much, and you just... wouldn't accept it. The day you had your baby, I asked if you were okay, and then you nearly _died._ I just don't understand why you'd do that. It was your decision, sure, but I can't help but blame myself, and... it hurt a lot of people. It almost hurt all of us. So I think it's a pretty stupid decision, to say that."

_Why do I refuse help? Why can't I say no?_

"... I had a shitty past, if that wasn't already made clear. I had a shitty mom and no dad, and nobody really cared about me for a long, long time. It's not my burden to put on you, but it's the reason why. I never saw my own worth, and I never learned to love the person I was, even if other people did."

"... Can you try?"

"I'm trying right now, Tubbo. One day, I think I'll get there, no matter how long it takes me."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a short chapter for today; i could've made it longer, but i think it would've taken away from the sentiment and sweetness of what i'd already written. 
> 
> kudos and comments are appreciated, as always.


	27. act V, scene V: finale

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i said i was going to drag it on for a bit longer, but after some thought and a bit of plotting, i have decided that this will be the final chapter. enjoy.

Getting better was a slow, steady process. 

Sometimes, it happened through long, tearful conversations with his friends, trying to work out where things had gone wrong in his mind. Sometimes, it happened through the smallest of things, like a gift, or a kind word. Help came in so many different forms, and Dream came to appreciate it however it chose to present itself.

He took care of his daughter, he ran a nation, and he helped another. Life was simple now, and there were so many opportunities for healing now that he wasn't fighting. Finally, he was free.

After more than two decades, he was free.

His dreamscape reflected it. Long gone were the dreams where he drowned and bled and wept, now, all he saw was beauty. He lay in wheat fields and stared up towards the sky, speckled with wispy clouds. He sat on mountain tops where the majesty was so great that he could scarcely breathe, and let his hands sink into the snow, letting it mold to his hands and hold his memory. He sat by the fire, and told himself stories all night long.

What was a dream but an expression of yourself? If this was who he was now, he'd say he was quite happy with it. 

Before, his dreams were hidden things, but now, he decided it would be better to share them. He told them to Elk as he rocked her to sleep, he told them to Tubbo when he was stressed at meetings, he told them to Ranboo when he came seeking advice, confused about the body he called a home--he told them to anybody who would listen. There was a certain amount of euphoria that came not just from healing, but from spreading it. 

There were a lot of broken people in these lands, and while Dream couldn't help them all, he could provide them with the love they needed to continue. Hope was a thing with teeth, tearing and ripping apart pieces of the soul when it was lost, but it also was the lifeblood of humanity, fueling bodies that could barely stand to exist.

Once, he had wondered why anybody chose to be alive, if death was such an easy escape. He saw now that _this_ was the reason.

Some things were worth living for.

Through healing, Dream was able to learn as well. The body he once hated, made up of the wrong parts still wasn't beautiful to him now, but it was lovely in its own way, he found. He wasn't quite sure when the sense of revulsion had gone away, replaced with a sense of satisfaction, but it was welcome. 

He looked at his stretch marks and scars, hips that were wider than before, and a pudgy stomach that had held his child nearly a month ago, and for once, his mind didn't beg to look away. His eyes like the night and his too-sharp teeth were just _him._ This was a body that had done many good things, and those things meant more than whatever pieces were woven into it. The sum was more than the parts, he was more than organs, bones, and skin. 

He talked with Sapnap about it on a day that Techno was watching Elk, as he did most things. He explained his musings, his thoughts, and everything else, and Sapnap grinned, saying he was proud in the most genuine voice Dream had ever heard from him. After that, they sparred with swords, slipping back into the routine that they'd had before everything had happened. Growing up was painful, but one could always reminisce about the past, and it made it sweeter. 

Sometimes, memories didn't have to be haunting. The last nine months had dragged up the very worst pieces of his mind, but with it came the best pieces as well. And right now, he was making better memories, ones that he'd cherish and never, ever try to forget. These were things that his mind wouldn't scramble to cover up, these were things that he loved. 

But of course, there would always be the memory of his mother.

That one was confusing, and he wasn't quite sure what to do with it. He had searched for closure most of his life, and at this point, he wasn't quite sure how to get that. He'd made himself proud by being a better parent than she ever had been, he was on good terms with the father of his child, he was _better,_ but still, she was his mother.

Now that he was happier, he found it a bit easier to step back and examine their relationship. She wasn't a bad person, just a very, very sad one. She had been miserable her entire life, and the only thing that she had left to love, her son, was also the only thing she had left to hate. It didn't excuse her actions, of course, and Dream wouldn't ever forgive her for what she did, but he couldn't hate her. He couldn't throw her into the bin of bad memories in the back of his mind and act like she didn't exist.

And so, he planned a funeral. It was just for him and Elk to attend; he'd never held a funeral before, but he was pretty certain he knew what to do. Well, it wasn't even a funeral, since his mother was long gone, but it was a memorial at least. He gathered flowers and small stones and whatever else felt right, and then, one late afternoon, he set off into the trees, with all his things in a bag and Elk strapped to his chest.

He wasn't quite sure where he'd put the memorial, but after a short walk, he stumbled across a tree that looked nice, with a thick tangle of roots filled with tiny nooks, and he set all his things down. He unraveled the wrap that kept Elk attached to him, and put her down as well; with reflexes and awareness like his, there was no way that any harm could come to her. He then got to work, scattering stones and placing flowers, trying his hardest to make it look nice. He liked building just fine, but this was quite far from anything he was used to. He felt awkward, strange, and almost childish, but he didn't stop. 

When he was done, he stepped back and surveyed his handiwork. Pebbles encircled a pile of bright red poppies, sitting below a sign that simply read "For Mama". 

He didn't even remember her name. The realization stung a bit, but he tried to ignore it, and sank to his knees in front of the memorial. He took a deep breath, and spoke in a shaky, uncertain voice.

"... Uh, hi. I don't really... know what I'm doing, actually, I'm just looking for closure, I guess. This feels kind of weird, especially since... well, since _everything_ happened _,_ really. But I need to get this off of my chest before I can move on with my life.

"You weren't a good person to me, that's all I remember about you. Honestly, I don't even know if you really loved me. It was so hard, I was so young, and you were just... so confusing. I don't have any good memories of you, that's all I know. But... I can't be bitter forever. I can't move on if I'm stuck in the past, pissed off at a woman who died years ago. You're mostly gone, but there's still a part of you that lives on in me, and I think it's time I let her go. She needs to rest.

"So, this is goodbye, I guess. I'm not sure if you're actually listening to me... I know a ghost, so I also know it's possible that you're floating around or something, but I'll just say goodbye to empty air. Or maybe I'll say goodbye to myself, because he's dying a bit too. I'm the sum of my parts, and even if I sometimes wish you weren't, you are a part of me. 

"I always worried that I would become you, actually. I thought that being shitty was genetic, or something--that's ridiculous, of course, but I was scared. I have a baby now, actually, it's why I worried. I thought I'd ruin her just like you ruined me. She's perfect, though. I named her Elk--I'm not totally sure why, I just liked the name, and it's not like I'd name her after you, if you're wondering. I don't even re-remember your name, mama. We're so far apart and I don't know if that makes me sad or happy... I just wished _you_ could've been happy.

"I think that's the reason I'm making this stupid memorial anyway. I'm mourning a woman who doesn't even _exist._ I'm mourning the person you could've been if you got help like I did, and somebody taught you how to be _right_ again. I don't think I'd ever actually mourn who you actually were. _You_ hurt me... but I'm getting too caught up in the past.

"I just need to let go, I'm drawing this out way too much. I'm a father now, and I have things to do... you're just a lesson to me now, and nothing else. Is that cruel? Is it cruel to take away the humanity of a person who barely acted human? I don't know, and I don't think the answer is an easy one to find. I think I'm just going to forget it all. Bye, Mama. I hope somebody out there forgives you for fucking up, and I'll miss... I'll miss the person that could have been a good mother. I'll see you one day."

Dream sniffled, and quickly wiped away the few tears that had fallen during his speech. He didn't want Elk to see him cry, he didn't want to upset her at all. He scooped her up and started to make his way back to his home, feeling so much lighter than he did before. 

He wept, but not out of sadness. He wasn't quite sure why, actually, but it wasn't bad. Life didn't always need to have meaning, or an answer.

That night, he tucked Elk into her crib, and lay down in his bed, too restless to sleep but too tired to keep working. His soul ached, but he felt whole inside.

She was gone. Like footprints on the beach, the water had come to wash her away. Now, Dream had his daughter, his friends, and his home. He was perfectly content to be here in the moment, even if he couldn't sleep. He could just stare at the ceiling until his eyelids started to droop, knowing that pleasant dreams, not nightmares, were awaiting him.

He didn't fear himself anymore. All he had left was freedom, granted to him in the strangest of ways. A bag of pills that sat rotting out in the woods, the spark created from a mistake, and a poorly-written declaration of independence, penned in shivering candlelight. 

Dream inhaled, letting air fill his lungs. His heart beat, his blood flowed, and he was _here,_ alive.

God, had he lived.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> well, that was quite the ride, wasn't it? what started as a vent fic that i never really planned to publish turned into me trying to fix a few ridiculed genres, and now it's finished. i can't help but feel a bit sad that it's over, but all things, good or bad, must come to an end eventually. i'd like to thank everybody for reading my strange story; i never expected it to receive any sort of engagement, so the fact that i've gotten here is honestly amazing to me.
> 
> as for the future... well, i've got some ideas. i think this will remain as a stand-alone work, but i have some other fics that i'd like to write. i don't think i'll ever be able to do a daily upload fic again, i'm just too busy for that (and while i could, the chapters would end up being very short like these ones, and i'd really like to write something with longer chapters), and i wouldn't have a consistent schedule either, but i'd quite like to write something else. in all honesty, i think this fic has a lot of issues with the pacing, and it's not my proudest work, so i'd like to write something that's much better in terms of structure and quality. 
> 
> but anyway, that won't be ready for quite a while. for now, i'll thank you once again for sticking around, and i hope you enjoyed this journey.


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